


How to Train Your Tween

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Parent Death, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Teenage Drama, Teenagers, widower!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the twelve years where Bilbo raised Frodo. When it came to tweenagers, Rorimac and Menegilda Brandybuck were veterans, but Frodo Baggins was, to put it lightly, quite troubled. And then there’s the elusive “Mad” Bilbo Baggins, head of the Baggins Clan and a relation of Frodo’s on both sides of the family tree, offering to take him in and name him his heir. Well, if it saves some of the hair on their feet, perhaps it might be the better option. Maybe…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was a certain social structure to the Shire. It was easy to work around and rarely anyone strayed too far from it lest they disrupt certain protocols that sheltered propriety from what really went on. Often the fumbling mistakes and learning curves of youth could be overlooked. They normally never harmed anyone and that was what was most important. 

Frodo son of Drogo of the Baggins clan, however, did not give two bits about these loopholes and tended to blatantly flaunt how different he was compared to his peers. A few gentle hearted lasses found his demeanor charming and even worthy of the occasional forlorn, lovesick sigh despite their fathers’ stern and loud insistence that they “stay away from that Baggins Boy down at Brandy Hall.”

Bilbo Baggins usually reserved judgment for _after_ meeting someone. And even then, impressions always took a while to truly grow. First impressions were never grand. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and clicked his tongue against his teeth as he stood outside Brandy Hall, wondering if the proposal he was going to make Rory would be wise.

 _You’re not getting any younger,_ Falco had said.

 _Think about it. Find a wife and have a child or two to be your heir if you’re so against Otho and Lobelia taking over the family when you’re gone_ , Posco added.

_You’ve lived alone for so long, Bilbo…_

_Would it really kill you? Having a family?_

Bilbo sighed and approached the door. _I’ll adopt,_ he told them. _I’ll adopt an orphan within our family line. Would that satisfy you all?_

His cousins looked at him with confusion and Bilbo had narrowed his eyes. _Or have you forgotten there is one child who bears the Baggins family name still around that has no living kin willing to look after him._ Their pitying grins died.

_You don’t mean Frodo, do you?_

_I do._

He knocked, stepped back and shoved his hands back in his pockets before looking about. The door opened and he looked at the person behind the door. He smiled at the woman. “Menegilda, how are you this afternoon?”

“Oh, Bilbo, come in,” she said tiredly. “Since your letter came, he’s been worse, I’m afraid.”

“Worse how?”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be meeting Frodo tonight. Half of our family has been looking for him in the woods since he learned you were interested in taking him to Hobbiton.”

Bilbo hummed. “May I come in anyway? Perhaps, if Frodo comes back, I could have a chat with the lad.”

Menegilda nodded, stepping out of Bilbo’s way. The house was warm with the lingering smell of fresh bread and apples. Bilbo followed Menegilda down the hall and into the parlor. She offered tea and he accepted. As soon as her back was turned, Bilbo sat down, wringing his hands together.

He’d never been patient with children, which is what stopped him from adopting Frodo earlier, fearing that he’d probably mentally scar the child instead of bring him up right. He could tell the occasional story, offer treats to the Gaffer’s little ones when they helped their Da in his garden.

Still, it was true: he wasn’t getting younger. He wasn’t interested in marriage—and if he dared divulge why that was, it’d be like picking at a scabbed over scar that had been infected. It wouldn’t be pretty and all of the Shire would think him madder than he already was and quite possibly unfit to be a tween’s guardian. They’d probably think horrid thoughts of him for it. Lobelia would accuse him aloud.

Yes, better to keep _that_ part of his adventure close to his heart and let it die with him. It wasn’t his attraction to those of his sex, but that the man who stole his heart had not been a Hobbit.

Menegilda returned with a tea tray. She poured a cup for him and he thanked her, taking the warm tea. “So…how are you with this proposal? I know it’s strange.”

“No, to be honest, the last year had been rather…harsh. We know how to handle a tween just fine and if all we had was Frodo staying out late frolicking with a lad or lass in the cornfield,” she shrugged. It was acceptable for tweens to experiment with each other, so long as no one got pregnant. “Not that he _doesn’t_ , of course. Stay out late, that is. I don’t know about cornfields, though.”

“That may be for the best,” Bilbo mumbled in his cup. “But beside that, what is wrong exactly?”

“Slamming doors, blatant disrespect to Rory and me, locking himself away, avoiding chores…he used to be such a good lad, open and peaceful…a part of me wonders if his behavior has to do with his parents’ absence. And then there’s…oh, I don’t know. Any tips?”

“None,” Bilbo admitted. By Yavanna, he wished one of the Dwarves were more readily available, Gloin or Bombur preferably. They’d probably have a bit of advice for him. “Have you tried talking to him?”

“It’d be easier to do if talking to Rory and me was actually done. He doesn’t confide in anyone as far as I know, not even to Saradoc and he’s pretty close to him. Good days are usually when he can spend them with Sara and Esme, or when he’s babysitting Merry.”

Then it wasn’t that the boy didn’t have an outlet…

“Does he consider Saradoc and Esmerelda parental figures?”

“No.”

That could be it!

 _Fili used to be so badly behaved!_ Thorin had admitted one night while the boys were gathering firewood. _For a while, just caused me trouble left and right! Couldn’t figure out why for my life! He behaved fine for his amad, after all. One day, just exploded at me for trying to take his father’s place. Believe me, I was_ not _intending to take Víli’s place. No one can take a parent’s place in a child’s life…_

The years may pass, but it doesn’t mean that Frodo would miss his parents any less. The hurt would just scar over without proper care. Sort of like how Bilbo felt after losing Thorin.

“You look like you’ve had an epiphany.”

Bilbo shrugged. “Simply know a thing or two about loss.”

“I see,” Menegilda said, pouring herself a second cup. “I had always wondered if that was behind it. Rory and I have tried and for a while, we thought we did fairly well. I thought, given his age, it’d be easier for Frodo to accept us.”

“I’m sure it was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to rebel a bit. As for the adoption, well, of course I’m not an expert, but he probably feels that he’s being given up on.”

“And yet it’s necessary if he’s going to be the next head of the Baggins family. Why him, Bilbo? I know you despise most of your relatives on your father’s side, but why him?”

Bilbo picked up the tea pot and poured himself a second cup. “I’m not sure. Perhaps because he needs a little more one-on-one guidance, or perhaps he needs something to do to keep out of trouble. All I know for sure is that he’s, from what I’ve heard, the only Baggins who’s remotely anything like me. Not that he’s oppressed here! I wouldn’t say that! Just…he needs something to help him feel balanced. I know what it’s like to feel at war with yourself, battling two different sides of you that can’t seem to be reconciled. For me, I didn’t find balance until I went on my adventure. He shouldn’t have to wait that long, I think, to feel at peace with who he is. Out of all the Bagginses, he’s the only other one that has even a bit of spirit.”

Menegilda remained silent for several seconds after, sipping her tea and contemplating. “I think if anyone can help him find that balance you’re talking about, it likely is you, Bilbo. You were always a bit temperamental yourself at his age.”

He nodded. He was. Especially with his father. Green Lady above, when he was Frodo’s age, it was one spat after another until his father’s death and despite his mother’s assurances that Bungo’s death was not on him, it took him a long time to reconcile with himself.

“Well, either way, I’m willing to try,” he admitted. Something thudded above them and they looked up at the ceiling. Tea cups were set down and he followed Menegilda up the stairs and to the third door on the right. She opened it and a youth glanced up.

His eyes were too blue and his hair too black. For a moment, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel stunned at the uncanny resemblance of his husband and the boy. But then he reconciled that the blue eyes were not quite the same shade of blue, his hair a little browner.

But _damn him_ if Frodo Baggins didn’t look close to being the child they could have had if Thorin had lived. He’d seen the boy before at family gatherings before he found a reason to disappear, but he’d never been this close to him.

Frodo’s shock shifted to a glare. “Just getting some things,” he said.

“Frodo—” Menegilda started, but he swung the bag over his shoulder and made for the open window. Bilbo cleared his throat.

“If you want to leave, you may, we’re not stopping you, but would running away really be wise? Winter’s upon us after all. Must be quite chilly out there.”

Frodo paused and started at him. “What do you know of it? Not like you _really_ went all the way to Erebor or whatever it is you call it.”

“Ah, but I did,” Bilbo said, arching a brow. “And I’m willing to prove it to you. When spring comes, if you’re amenable, we could go all the way east. Get out of the Shire for a bit, believe me, you’ll be changed for the better for it. Makes you both hate this place and love it more than before.”

Frodo narrowed his eyes at Bilbo. “And after?” he asked. “What then? You’ll grow tired of me like them.” Bilbo’s eyebrows rose.

“They aren’t tired of you, lad. Your antics, however, have tried many a Hobbit’s patience. Only a proper adventure might be enough to help you there. Get that wanderlust out of your system.”

Frodo jumped off the bed and crossed his arms, still glaring at Bilbo. “So what?” he asked. “You’ll take me on an adventure and expect me to be all fine and dandy after?”

“Perish the thought,” he said. “Healing from anything is never that easy, but getting out, seeing the world, it can help. Of course, you’d have to pull your weight. During the winter, I could teach you a bit of basic sword fighting techniques I picked up on the way, get you a sword in Bree.” He ignored Menegilda’s horrified gasp in favor of the growing spark of interest in Frodo’s eyes.

“Sword fighting?”

“As I said, I only know the basics,” Bilbo said. “I’m not a master, though masters I know well, especially in the Dwarfish field of fighting. It’s better suited for those of our size, after all, since Dwarves are about our size as well, if not a tad blockier. Lad, Rory and Gilda aren’t getting rid of you because they’re tired, not to say they aren’t. But they certainly aren’t taking your parents place, if that has been an issue for you. If you like, you can still live here. Either way, I would like to name you my heir. Otherwise, the Sackville-Bagginses become the head of the family.”

Frodo winced. “Fair point,” he said.

“They’d run the family business to the ground, you know. Completely overprice their tenants, I bet. Nothing worse than a crooked landlord, aye? I had thought it’d merely be easier for me to teach you the ropes if you came to live with me instead.”

“And I can learn to sword fight?”

“As much as I can teach you.”

“And get out of the Shire, even if for a bit?”

“Of course.”

Frodo stared at him. “Would I have to see them? The Sackville-Bagginses hate me more than you.”

“I’ve been handling them my whole life since I came back from my adventure,” Bilbo said. “You don’t have to do a thing concerning them. Hell, I’ll even give you fair warning about them if they come by announced. And if they don’t come by announced, Bag End has a number of secret escape routes.” Most of which Bilbo had added himself. “To be fair, I’ll likely join you. I can only handle them, Lobelia especially, when I’m in a fairly good mood. Otherwise, I’m itching for my sword and likely heading to get it the moment she opens her mouth to speak.”

Menegilda hid her face in her hands, muttering angrily to herself.

“It’s up to you, lad,” Bilbo said. “But I’ll be back next week and would like to know what you decide by then. Feel free to stop by Bag End any time during the week if you come to a decision sooner.” Bilbo turned to Menegilda and patted her shoulder. “I think that will be all today,” he said. “Thank you for the tea, Gilda.”

“You’re welcome, Bilbo,” she said, heaving a great sigh. Frodo took the opportunity to slip out the window. Bilbo hummed. Yeah, even if Frodo didn’t want to live in Bag End, he’d likely make him his heir anyway. Cheating the Sackville-Bagginses of what they want is always worth it.

Still, he didn’t expect Frodo to look so much like Thorin, even if they were in no way related.


	2. Chapter 2

He had just sat down when he heard a thumping down the hall. For a moment, he mistook it for the door, and hadn’t _that_ taken him back?!

Bilbo stood and strode down the hall, checking the room it seemed to have come from. Frodo was stashing his bag under the bed, bum in the air. The image was funny, but Bilbo just leaned against the wall, trying not to laugh, with his arms crossed and waited.

Frodo stood and turned around. After a moment, he started to blush. Bilbo shook his head. “That was a shoddy break in, Lad.”

“Clearly,” Frodo said, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at his feet.

“Hungry?” Bilbo asked. Frodo nodded. “Come on then. To be honest, Lad, I didn’t expect you to decide so soon.”

“I’ve not,” Frodo said. “Figured I’d at least take a look around.”

Well, that…made sense. Sort of. Bilbo resigned himself to perhaps never understanding what goes through a tween’s mind. It’d just give him a headache. In the kitchen, Frodo sat down at the table as Bilbo gathered more food to cook.

“Normally I don’t entertain unexpectedly. I’d like to say otherwise, but my friends rarely stop by. Bit hard to do when you’re on the other side of the world.”

“Actually, Erebor’s just on the other side of Middle Earth,” Frodo said. “It’s not the other side of the world at all. Go far enough east and you find different cultures and practices. Same if you go south.”

“Well, that is true all around,” Bilbo said. _Smart little shit_ , he thought. Still, he couldn’t refute that. “Fish all right?” Frodo nodded and looked out the window. “Well, feel free to ask any questions—”

“Why didn’t you just get married if heirs became a problem?”

Well that progressed rather quickly, if Bilbo did say so himself. Which he did. He dropped the fish in the skillet. What does he say? He knew it was an innocent question and there was no reason to get angry over it. He took a breath and turned around. “I was married,” Bilbo said. “And not a few days later, he died.”

“You could have remarried,” Frodo said.

“I’m afraid his people would not have understood.” He turned back to the food. “For Dwarves, remarrying is only acceptable when your former spouse is not your One—that is, your soul mate. They don’t practice this to be cruel, you see, it’s just how they are. It’s their culture. I was my husband’s soul mate, and he was mine. Now, I personally did not want to remarry, so I didn’t. It’s not as though anyone here would…well…”

“I get it. I think. But most people would say it’s okay to remarry,” Frodo said.

“True,” Bilbo said, handing him a plate with the fish and some mashed potatoes and boiled carrots. Frodo thanked him and started to eat. “But cultural differences aside, I never really found anyone who had the same spark he did.”

“So…you never married because you’re still in love with a guy you only had a few years with?”

“Months, actually.”

“Uh-huh,” Frodo said. He shoveled potatoes in his mouth, staring at Bilbo with a deadpan stare. He supposed to someone who wouldn’t understand, his reasons for not wanting to marry weren’t all that…

Bilbo cleared his throat. “I’ve some flan if you’re interested. After dinner.”

“Sure.”

“Wonderful.”

This might be harder than he thought.

#

Frodo didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. At least, it didn’t seem that way to Bilbo. One day became two.

The Brandybucks had learned that Frodo was with him, which calmed them down somewhat, except for the loud argument Frodo then had with Rory down the hall, leading to slammed doors and a seething cousin or two.

“Still interested?” Rory asked.

“Actually, yes,” Bilbo said, sipping his tea. “The slamming will need to be dealt with, but he’s definitely strong willed. I like that.”

Rory threw his hands up and stormed outside, growling about needing a smoke.

“I do hope you know what you’re doing,” Menegilda said.

“I think I’ll manage,” he said, standing. “Frodo is difficult, but perhaps a different tactic would work. He came here, did he not? I’ll talk to him when he’s less likely to bite my head off.”

Menegilda nodded and thanked him for the tea, setting it down. “I do wish you all the luck in the world.”

Bilbo paused for half a moment, feeling as though he was back inside that cave, rain pounding outside and feeling quite heartbroken, having had enough, convinced nothing he’d do would make Thorin think different of him (quite unaware that Thorin had been fancying him since they met. He knew better now, of course…), and ready to go home instead of face more of Thorin’s wrath and disdain.

Then he was back in Bag End.

“Thank you,” he said. “I doubt luck will play a part in it, though.”

She stood and he walked her to the door.

“Have a good night, Gilda.”

She nodded and he watched her and Rory walk away.

“Are they gone?”

Bilbo turned around to see Frodo. “They are.”

“So I can stay?”

“If that is what you want, though I think we will need to have a chat. Lay some ground rules.” Frodo frowned. “Now don’t go scowling like that! Goodness if looks could scare the hair off my feet…It’s simply that I think we can make this work together. Aye?” Frodo was still scowling. Perhaps he was trying to scare the hair off Bilbo’s feet. Instead, Bilbo led him into the living room. “First off, you won’t be treated as a guest. I’ll be your guardian, so you will have chores to do. Keeping your room clean would be common sense. I don’t keep staff, though I do have a gardener. My knees, you see, not what they used to be. We’ll hash out the details of what else I would like you to help with in the morning.” The scowl was gone and Frodo gave him a single nod of his head. “You’re a smart lad, I know. I’ve books everywhere. You’re welcome to them, of course, save what is in that trunk,” he pointed at it. Within were mementos of his journey.

“Isn’t that a glory box?”

“Ah, yes, it belonged to my mother. It’d not held any of her things in ages, though. Just don’t touch it.” Frodo nodded. For now, that would have to do. “I know you like staying out late, and to be honest, I do not mind it, so long as you do come home before midnight.”

He blinked. “Midnight?”

“Too early for you?”

“No, Rorimac and Gilda always wanted me home before supper if I had to be out late.”

“Well I would _like_ that, but I figured you’d want a little more breathing room. Am I wrong?” Frodo shook his head. “Good. Just don’t wake me if I’m asleep by then. Just come in and go to bed. As for mornings, be up by elevensies at the latest.”

Frodo nodded, grinning. Late nights and late mornings. Of course, that would work for him.

It also granted Bilbo a little bit of peace, if he was going to have any now with Frodo being about. “What did you like least about living with Rory and Gilda?” he asked.

Frodo blinked, startled by the question. “They expected me to socialize. I never liked it. I mean, I can be sociable, but only for short periods of time. Just enough to say hello and then I’m just…drained. Does that make sense?”

“More than you think. I’m the same. I mean, I like a good party, but I’d rather have a pint of ale and a few laughs with close friends around a dinner table than anything else. So many blasted relatives just _trying_ to—”

“To get to know you when really you just want to be left alone,” Frodo said.

Bilbo almost laughed. How funny it was that this boy, who easily could be his and Thorin’s (if not for certain yet very subtle differences), understood him so completely. “Exactly,” Bilbo said.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, I think it is. Ah! Except, be careful with these doors, they’ve been standing for more than a century and I’d like to keep it that way. I know you need to vent when you’re angry, but slamming the doors won’t help. Might I suggest screaming into a pillow or punching it until I can find the time to show you a few tricks with a sword?”

“Oh. Okay.”

“If you like, that is all—”

Frodo jumped up and fled to his new room. “Don’t you want tea?” No response. Bilbo crossed his arms and leaned back. Well, it could’ve been a worse start.

#

Lobelia was furious when the news finally reached her.

By then, Bilbo had signed the adoption papers and Frodo was in the middle of packing his things back at Brandy Hall.

Bilbo had to barricade the door from her and Otho.

Lobelia had a few colorful words for him while Otho accused him of being unreasonable. Lobelia called him a snake. Well, if it meant causing them pain, he could handle being “a snake.”

After a few minutes, the constables came by and escorted them away. Hamfast rapped on the window.

“Are you okay in there, Mr. Bilbo?”

“Very much so,” he said. “Thank you for getting help.”

“Not at all. Though to be honest, I’m not sure taking in Frodo Baggins is such a smart idea.”

Him and everyone else. Bilbo just grinned. “We shall see,” he said. Indeed they would. Perhaps it was hopeless, but Bilbo had a few good feelings about what may or may not happen if he took Frodo in. All in all…

It was bound to be another adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to be clear: Bilbo is his canonical age of 99 here. Frodo is Drogo's and Primula's son. And yes, there is MPreg anyway. At closest, it'll be a reincarnation fic of sorts in some ways...like similar personality, but different soul. Would that be okay?


	3. Chapter 3

Despite the rumors, Bilbo had found Frodo to actually be a quiet sort. He liked gardening and often was out helping Hamfast when he could. If nothing in the garden needed extra tending by Frodo’s hand, he’d borrow a book from the study and run off into the wood till it was too dark to read.

Routine was easily set to practice. Every morning, Frodo would be up by second breakfast. He’d trudge downstairs in his night clothes, have something to eat, then go upstairs to get ready for the day. Whatever that entailed for him, he never told Bilbo. He said he’d be back later and Bilbo was left to his usual solitude.

For nearly a month, this peace lasted. Then, on a Tuesday evening, there was knocking at his door. Bilbo had just finished washing the dishes he used for dinner when the rapping on his door came. It wasn’t Frodo. That much was certain. Nor was it Lobelia. She’d have shrieked at him by now.

Bilbo dried his hands on a tea towel and went to the door. Frodo was restrained by his arm, held by Constable Vickie Proudfoot.

“Good evening, Master Baggins,” he said, tipping his cap at Bilbo.

“Good evening,” he said. “Could you let go of my nephew, Vickie? I’m sure he doesn’t need further escort.” Frodo took that as permission to pull away and might as well have pushed Vickie off and ran inside. Bilbo waited for him to turn the corner before looking at Vickie again. “Care for some tea?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” he said, rubbing his neck. “Lots of people admire you taking Frodo in, Master Baggins, but you can’t keep ignoring his misdeeds.”

“I’ve heard the rumors same as you, but until tonight, I’ve seen no credibility for it. What exactly is it he did tonight that required your escorting him home?” Bilbo put the kettle on it’s hook and pushed it into the fireplace.

“Prowling, sir. Caught him looking in windows—”

“His curfew is midnight,” Bilbo said, the cheer fading from his voice. “It’s not even nine at night, Vickie. Have you caught him actually _trying_ to break into a house?”

“A couple times before?”

“When whole families are still awake?”

“Like I said, sir, he was prowling. Probably looking for a home to break into and rob.”

“Yes. _Probably_. You’ve no proof beyond pointless speculation. He’s a _tween_ , Vickie. Not a pariah! Granted, I cannot speak for his past, but as of now, unless there is definite proof that he has broken a law, I want him to be left alone! If I find you’ve been following him, I promise I will speak to your superior for such misconduct! Goodness! If you went around arresting people on the basis of thievery, all of the Shire would be under siege of—”

The kettle whistled, startling Bilbo. It certainly fit. He removed it from the hearth and Vickie looked more like he was ready to bolt for the door rather than have a cup before he left.

Instead, Bilbo took a deep breath and poured the water into a fresh pot of chamomile. They’d both need to calm down after this. And he’d probably take a cup to Frodo after this if Frodo hadn’t run off for the rest of the night.

“Now, look here, Master Bilb—Baggins,” Vickie stuttered. “Frodo is a delinquent. He has a record.”

“Yes, and as far as I can tell, he’s lashing out. It matters not who his guardian is, he is still an orphan and too many people look on orphans as burdens.” He wasn’t innocent of this. He had done the same, but orphans were few in number in the Shire.

In Laketown, there had been orphans on every street. Many had taken quite the shine to the Dwarves who made them warmer clothes, snuck them food…Even Thorin had shown affection to some of those children. Leaving Laketown had not been completely joyous.

 _Their past doesn’t matter. They are children and no matter what, all children are blessings_ , he remembered Thorin saying with fondness their last night as a little girl slept in his arms. _Times are hard here, and that is always rough. But so long as there is someone willing to take them in, they have a chance. It matters not their age._

Bilbo poured the tea into a cup and pushed it toward Vickie before making his own cup.

“But so far, I have found Frodo to be far calmer than everyone has said he was. I was expecting him to be far more unruly than what’s been said. As such, unless he has done something grievous enough to warrant arrest— _prowling_ is not a good reason, Vickie—I would much prefer it if people left him alone. Is that acceptable?”

“Y-yes, Master Baggins.”

“Good. Drink up. We both need it. Now, I expect things have been blown to proportions about Frodo just as they have about me. Given that, your escorting him may have very well made things more difficult for him, Vick. Try to remember that he’s just a kid.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bilbo took a breath and drank his tea. Truly, the Shire was a tiring place despite its peace. After Vickie left, he poured another cup and went to Frodo’s room, knocking on the door. “May I come in?”

No response…

The door opened and Frodo glared at him. Bilbo offered a small smile. “I’m not going to yell at you, lad. As far as I know, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Frodo stared at the cup for a moment, then hugged him. Bilbo almost dropped the cup in his bewilderment. “Tea?”

Frodo let him go and took the cup. “Thanks.”

Bilbo nodded. “Right.” He turned to leave, stopped, and looked at Frodo again. “I won’t tolerate you being treated like that. You’re young and your reputation is still budding. Mine, well, it’s good and black from my adventure. I wouldn’t change that. But neither will I tolerate thievery. I think one burglar is enough for now. Don’t you?” Frodo nodded, lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip. “Good. Have you eaten?” He shook his head. “Well, that won’t do. Come on and we’ll whip up a quick supper for you.”

“Okay.”

#

 

> _Dear Bilbo,_
> 
> _All is well, I hope! Last we spoke, Balin had successfully taken Khazad-Dum back and now it’s inhabitable again. You might get another letter from him and/or Oin, but they’d all be about the same thing: now that were closer, it’d be easier for visits to be made._
> 
> _I’d have come and visit you myself by now, but it seems that there’s still lots of work to be done in the library and I can’t be bothered to leave it long unless I want my work undermined by others (supposedly older and wiser scribes. The nerve of them!)._
> 
> _There’s still lots to be done here, but Balin’s a great lord nevertheless and there is no lack of work to be done. Lots of Dwarves are migrating here every day to mine Mithril and, oh, Bilbo! I know it’s not like how you like it much, but it’s still so wonderful! You should see it. You’re always welcome to Khazad-Dum and Erebor if you ever need to get out of the Shire._
> 
> _Your friend eternally,_
> 
> _Ori son of Kori_
> 
> _Head Scribe of Khazad-Dum_

Bilbo tapped his chin as he read the letter. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Frodo, still in his night clothes, and trying—and failing—to be sneaky.

“I’m quite sure you’re supposed to be up by second breakfast, lad.”

Frodo dropped his shoulders. “I overslept.”

“I’m sure,” Bilbo said, arching a brow at him. “And why did you oversleep?”

Frodo crossed his arms. “I just did. What’s that? A letter? Who from?”

“Nice try. Go wash up. Elevensies will be ready in a bit. In that time, you can either come up with a believable story or confess that you came back later than you should have. Just because I’m not enforcing your curfew now doesn’t mean I won’t start, Frodo.”

Frodo slumped his shoulders, mumbled a “yes, sir,” and went to the bathroom. Bilbo grabbed a sheet of parchment.

 

> _Dear Ori,_
> 
> _It is always wonderful to hear from any of you! And as for what counts as “well,” that depends on your definition of the word. I’ve recently become the guardian of a tween, so while travel is possible, I wouldn’t say it’s going to be an easy journey. Getting out of the Shire would do him and me both some good, I think._
> 
> _I am glad to hear that taking Khazad-Dum had been successful. Balin must strut as proud of as a peacock at this accomplishment and I look forward to seeing those halls with my own eyes. Goodness knows I’ve missed you all so much!_
> 
> _Will it just be you, Balin, and Oin or will others be there? I can’t imagine Dwalin, Gloin, and your own brothers staying away for long now that it’s prospering._
> 
> _I have actually been considering heading your way for the winter. I expect if I time things right, Frodo and I might be able to make it there in time for Durin’s Day. I never did get to see those grand celebrations Thorin told me about—_

He paused. It was getting easier, true, but sometimes the hurt just…wouldn’t go away. Not properly. If it were physical, it’d be scabbed, dead flesh over his heart. Bilbo took a deep breath. He could write his name. That had to mean something. Maybe he could get around to remembering one day without breaking down in tears.

 

> _—Anyway, please let Balin know I will be there and same with Frodo._
> 
> _Ever at your service,_
> 
> _Bilbo Baggins_

He set the letter down and stretched, groaning at how his back cracked.

Damn getting old! It hurt! The irony was that despite that, he still felt and acted like he hadn’t aged much since then. Still, his belly had grown and he had more grey than auburn in his hair and more worry lines which he was certain would increase now that he had Frodo to contend with.

“Okay, so here’s why I overslept,” Frodo said.

 _This ought to be good_ , Bilbo thought, looking at him.

“So you see, Fatty Bolger and I found Gandalf on the border of the Shire just before sunset.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And you know, he’s an old guy. His scarf flew off into a tree. He asked Fatty and me to get it down—”

“Frodo, just stop before you hurt yourself,” Bilbo said.

“That bad?”

“Considering Gandalf is an old friend of mine, I would expect him to be here if he was going to come to the Shire at all.”

“Fuck.”

“The truth, now.”

“Well, I did climb a tree. And threw pinecones at Farmer Maggot. He set his dogs on me. Fatty was there, though.”

Bilbo nodded. Yeah. That was certainly more believable. “He didn’t call them off?”

“Not till two in the morning. It was like he deliberately forgot about us.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been throwing pinecones at him, don’t you think?” Bilbo asked, trying to keep stern, though the very thought of it was sort of amusing. “At least they weren’t on fire.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” He jumped to his feet. “Come on, you must be starving after your late night adventure.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter today...well, shorter than usual, I mean. Meaning that the next chapter should be longer than usual...enjoy

“I think these will do,” Bilbo said, handing Frodo one of the wooden swords.

Frodo wrinkled his nose at it and gave Bilbo a look that could only be the epitome of _you have got to be kidding me_. Bilbo grinned.

“Well, you didn’t think I’d let you hold a real sword just yet, did you?”

“I guess not, but a _toy_?”

“It’s either this or a stick. Either way, this will help you know the make and feel of the usual sword. Especially since sword-fighting is more than just knowing how to stab someone. On the quest, I learned some basic skills, which I kept up with. It’s not the whole discipline, but it’s enough to allow you to fight in case you can’t hide.”

Frodo nodded and they headed back to Bag End, getting odd looks from the local matrons and their families.

Frodo was too involved with the toy sword to notice. For him, it was a fair amount of jealous looks from his age-mates and awe from younger faunts.

“For now, we’ll begin with defense,” Bilbo said as they entered the house. “Or would you rather not begin now.”

“I’m fine with now,” Frodo said, trying to sound cool despite the spark in his eye.

“I have some real weapons to show you before we begin. Meet me in the back yard.”

He handed his wooden sword to Frodo, who dashed out of the house as Bilbo made his way to the glory box, pulling Sting out. Once his sword was in his hand, he took down the shield from the wall and carried it outside.

Frodo was swinging his new toy about in wide arcs that would make Dwalin flinch as though pained.

“All right, try this,” Bilbo said, handing him the shield. Frodo almost fell under its weight.

“It’s heavy.”

“That’s Dwarfish weaponry for you. They’re heavier and you need a lot of bulk to use these. Hobbits, I’ve come to find, are actually quite strong for our size and build. I carried this shield on my back all the way from Erebor. Walked back with it just over my shoulder with a small chest full of troll’s gold from the border all the way to Hobbiton,” Bilbo said, smirking at the awed look Frodo gave him.

“So…” He tried lifting it. “Still heavy.”

“Yes, well, at that time I was stronger when I returned. That tends to happen when you get stuck on a quest to face a dragon. You get stronger and braver. Unavoidable, really. Now for an Elven weapon, this is my sword, Sting.” He traded the shield for the sword. “As light as the wood ones, aye?”

Frodo nodded and made to run his finger against it.

“Careful, it’s still quite sharp.”

He pressed his fingers to the flat of the blade instead. “Have you killed anyone?”

“Orcs and Goblins only,” Bilbo said. “The thing about swords is that even though it is the weapon, the death is on _you_. Gandalf told me once that the strength of a weapon-master, any weapon-master, is in not knowing when to take a life, but to spare one.”

Frodo looked at him. “But you _have_ killed.”

“Yes.”

“Does that bother you?”

“It was self-defense, and sometimes it does. However, if I had not killed them…” He took a breath. _I’m not ready._ “Well, let’s just say deaths would not have been prevented if I did not act when I did. It is easier not to think of who your opponent is and who is dear to them that they fight for.”

Frodo nodded, holding Sting loosely in his hand.

“Well, I think that’s it. Now we do not have any shields, so this,” he lifted the shield and put it aside, “is quite useless. Now there are two ways to fight: the first is with one hand, and the second is with both. Now I prefer using both hands and in the event of one arm getting injured, you can still use the other. The thing about most two-handed weapons is that they’re heavier and though you are given more control through using both hands, it does make it harder to maneuver.”

He took Sting from Frodo’s hand and sheathed it, putting it with the shield.

“Pick up your sword. Hold it firmly in both hands. Don’t look so nervous, Frodo, we’ll start slow and once you’ve mastered the technique we’ll speed up.”

“Are you sure I can do this?”

“I’m sure,” Bilbo promised. “Any weapon can be mastered. But many have different preferences. For instance, I knew a Dwarf who preferred long-range weapons, specifically the bow and arrow. No he still knew how to use the sword despite that. So even if it’s not your first choice for a weapon, it is still a good weapon to master. I also knew a Dwarf who preferred throwing knives and many preferred axes instead. And one Dwarf was weapons-master in all practices that I could think of. If it involved something that could draw blood, he knew how to use it to its full potential.”

“Was he nice?”

“Well, after a while I realized he was very nice in his own way, but all in all, he did not look nice. Most of what I know about swords, I learned from him. But he _did_ have a sweet tooth for biscuits…”

Frodo snorted. “Biscuits?”

“You’d be surprised,” Bilbo said. “Dwarves are jacks-of-all-trades if they put their mind to it. That same Dwarf was a blacksmith and violinist. Now hold the sword up and straight.”

#

Lobelia came around tea, snapping at how sword-fighting was far from respectable and that Bilbo was corrupting the youth of Hobbiton or some other shite.

Bilbo listened with fraying patience and Frodo kept out of her way entirely, hiding in his room.

Bilbo _almost_ told her to shove it. He _almost_ said that he was taking Frodo on a holiday in the fall and visiting Khazad-Dum in the winter, therefore making sword-fighting a useful skill despite it’s _respectability_.

He gathered that if he did tell her, she’d probably use that absence as a way to wheedle herself into Bag End. Nope. He would need to come up with something to keep her out of his mother’s house. Once she left, Bilbo took a deep breath.

 _Tea,_ he thought. _Tea would be most pleasant right now._

“Is she gone?”

“Yes, Frodo, she’s gone,” Bilbo said. “Though I could use a good cup of tea.”

“I’d rather just punch her nose.”

“Now, now, as lovely as that sounds, you are a _gentlehobbit_ , Frodo Baggins. There will be no punching noses in, no matter how much you want to.” Granted, Bilbo was only saying this for the sake of it. Punching Lobelia was far too tempting, but also far from acceptable. Instead, he led him into the kitchen and Frodo beat him to the tea kettle, filling it with fresh water and putting it over the fire just after Bilbo lit it.

“You’re right,” Frodo said. “It’s not okay to resort to violence unless there’s no option. But that doesn’t mean there’ can’t be exceptions.”

Bilbo laughed. “Need I clarify why it is not acceptable to go punching noses in? Or just Lobelia’s?”

“Well…Otho’s pretty big.”

“Oh please,” Bilbo scoffed. “I could take Otho with one hand tied behind my back and hopping on one foot. It is no challenge.”

“I don’t know,” Frodo said, setting the tea pot on the table. “You’re almost a hundred, aren’t you?”

“You are rather cheeky this afternoon,” Bilbo muttered.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Frodo, you are not now nor ever allowed to go about punching people unless you have no other choice. Attacking in anger is a troll’s prerogative. Even _orcs_ have better manners!”

Frodo winced. “Sorry, Uncle.”

“So long as we understand each other,” Bilbo said.

Frodo brought over some scones. “Perhaps you could teach me more sword fighting stuff after tea? I promise I’ll be careful with it.”

“I suppose,” Bilbo sighed. “If the weather holds, of course, I won’t teach you anything inside the house. Too many antiques. I’d rather not have a repeat of _Blunt the Knives_.”

“What’s _Blunt the Knives_.”

“Something guaranteed to give me a bloody heart attack,” Bilbo said. “Which is why you are _never_ to learn it.”

If Bofur came, he would try and Bilbo would _strangle_ him for it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late. Day was very busy...

The winter passed mildly in Hobbiton and while the lack of snow was mourned by faunts and tweens alike, it allowed Bilbo to teach Frodo how to wield a sword properly and even head to Bree to have one made for Frodo before their trip to Khazad-Dum.

There, they measured Frodo’s arm, taking into account that he would, eventually get a bit bigger, but perhaps not by much.

As it was, long daggers were better suited for Hobbits and Sting was used as a model for the length and feel for Frodo’s sword. True, his sword in question would be heavier, but it was unavoidable.

Only Elves knew how to make blades so light.

When the blade was finished, Frodo began practicing with it and Sting. Frodo’s unnamed sword was a flat steel blade with Sting’s matching curves and similar curved design along the blade.

The hilt was also made of steel and wrapped with leather from base of the hilt to just beneath the spherical tip.

The sword was still quite heavy, but Frodo could at least lift it and that was the beginning of a more rigorous training between hearty meals to help him keep both his strength up for the exercises Bilbo had him doing and a hobbit’s paunch.

They could be seen on Bag End’s roof or in the garden practicing.

Even an amateur could tell the difference, while both were not masters, Bilbo’s skill and patience was befitting of a master and Frodo took the lessons as eagerly as any student would.

“All right, I think that’s enough for today,” Bilbo said as Frodo huffed for breath, a drop of sweat trailing down his brow. “How about you go wash up for tea.”

“Okay,” Frodo said, sheathing his blade and heading back inside.

Bilbo sheathed Sting and pulled his handkerchief out. All in all, the weather was quite cool, but teaching Frodo how to use a sword worked their blood up quite a bit.

His stomach gave a loud growl in protest and Bilbo sighed.

Definitely time to eat.

He should have some blueberry scones left from second breakfast and it’d go great with lemon and ginger tea with a drop or two of honey.

Considering that a plan, he waited for Frodo to return from the wash room as he set out the scones, honey bowl, and put the kettle over the fire. Lastly, he added lemon zest and ginger chips to the tea pot.

Frodo stepped out, cheeks flushed and yawning.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Bilbo said. “There are still lots to do today. No napping.”

“But _uncle…_ ”

“We need to set up a route to take to Khazad-Dum and figure out if there’s any stops we want to take along the way.”

“Seriously? What would be out there?” Frodo asked, picking up a scone and stuffing it in his mouth. “The only other city or town out there beside Bree is Rivendell.”

“And who knows how long we will be there before we move on to Khazad-Dum. I’m thinking two weeks should suffice, but you never know, it could be three. Elves are wonderful hosts when you don’t insult them to their faces.”

“You did that?!” Frodo blurted out, eyes wide. “How are you still alive?!”

“I didn’t,” Bilbo said. “One of the Dwarves I went on my adventure with did. All that did for us was get us nothing but salad for dinner. Elves only raise their swords against Orcs first. They’re actually rather pleasant to be around and are lovers of wit.”

The kettle whistled and Bilbo pulled it free, pouring the water into the pot and letting it seep.

The journey could be three months or four. And that’s just _getting_ there.

“I know you’ll probably be interested in seeing that Trollshaws…ridiculous name…but anyway, it’s a safe way to get a good look at a troll without risking getting killed. Goodness knows, we’d probably still smell their stink when we get there.”

“Are trolls as big as the say?”

“Yes.”

“How’d you get out of that?”

“Gandalf has had miraculous timing here and there when it suits him. That and a bit of wit. Trolls are quite thick headed. Easy to trick if you need to trick them. Of course, I think we really could have done without getting stuffed in sacks.”

“I’m sure,” Frodo deadpanned.

Bilbo arched a brow. “You don’t believe me?”

“Well, it’s kind of stupid, approaching a troll for any reason.”

Oh, the little mite was going to regret that once he met the others!

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t have if not for—” _Fili and Kili_.

Bilbo sucked in a breath and cleared his throat. “How about you have some tea, lad while I get my maps.” He stood, walking to the study.

#

The last time he’d traveled was nearly fifty years ago, leaving the Shire had been difficult enough and even if he wanted to leave permanently, a part of him couldn’t really bring himself to part with it. The Shire was his history and brimming with good memories.

Even if better memories lied on the road and the bitter ones remained back in Erebor, buried under rock and stone, he almost preferred…well, he wasn’t sure what he preferred.

The bitterest thought of all, it seemed, was that Bilbo wasn’t sure if he’d be able to make the trek back to Erebor at all one day. Maybe someday he would fulfill that age old promise to Thorin’s tomb.

Still he didn’t expect memories to come knocking two days after his route was chosen.

Well…to say _knocking_ would be a gross understatement.

“UNCLE!!!” Frodo bellowed as he raced down the hill as Bilbo returned from collecting rent. “Dwarves! They just invaded the house! I couldn’t stop them!”

Bilbo furrowed his brow and followed Frodo home at a far more leisurely pace than his frantic ward.

“Where’d he put ‘em,” one growled.

“Looks a bit different from the last time we were here,” another said.

“Da, are you sure we’re allowed?”

“Of course you are!” Bilbo laughed. The four Dwarves turned to him and Dwalin stormed over to him.

“Where are they?”

“I hadn’t made any biscuits this week,” Bilbo said. “Though I can have some ready in a couple hours for you if you like. In the meantime,” he patted Frodo’s hand. “Frodo, may I introduce, Dwalin, Nori, and Gloin—and I take it this young lad here is your prestigious son, Gloin?”

“Aye, this is my lad, Gimli.” Gloin said, giving Gimli a firm shake of the shoulders.

Gimli’s cheeks turned red and he ground his teeth, hiding his face behind his hand. “ _Da_ …”

“My friends, this is my heir and ward, Frodo Baggins. Dwalin, maybe you’d like to earn those biscuits by giving him some advice on swordsmanship. I’m afraid there’s only so much I can teach him, but the basics had been taken care of thus far.”

Dwalin smirked. “Grab your weapon, lad. Gimli, you may as well come to.”

“What?! I just got here! Have mercy, will you?”

“You won’t get mercy in battle, now get,” Dwalin snapped.

“Have fun, lads,” Gloin said as Dwalin pushed Frodo and Gimli out. His son glared at him and Frodo looked more like a scared rabbit. Bilbo chuckled.

“I suppose I’ll have to make biscuits now,” he said. “I know I said don’t bother knocking, but this is a touch ridiculous, don’t you think?”

“No,” Nori said. “See, we figured we’d join you on the way back to Khazad-Dum.”

“Oh? Were you not just there?”

“Aye,” Gloin said. “Balin’s damn smug about it. Dwalin didn’t think he could do it and then he did do it and of course Ori’s doing much better without Dori there to mother him so much.”

“And Dori’s married,” Nori said.

“Ah, yes, I heard about that. He’s children of his own to dote on. That must help.”

“Aye, it does,” Gloin agreed.

Above them, they heard a scream followed by a thud. Bilbo and Gloin looked up at the ceiling, then at each other.

“Dwalin does know how to work with rookie swordsman, doesn’t he?”

“No better way to train someone than to get them scared for their lives.”

“Oh dear,” Bilbo said. “Does anyone want tea?”

#

His companions were not all that keen on the idea of stopping in Rivendell, but Bilbo won them over with the promise that he could, in fact, get the Elves to give them a decent fair if they trusted him. It wasn’t likely that they’d get the meat they so desired if they were left to do any talking.

Still, he did promise and with that, he wrote to Elrond, stating that he, Frodo, and four Dwarves would be stopping by for a couple weeks.

As for Frodo, he was practically leaning off Gimli, insisting that he was half-dead.

Gimli wasn’t sure whether to pat his back or to just shove him off. The conflict on his face was entertaining to watch, if nothing else.

“Still don’t get why we need to stop there,” Gloin groused as he and Dwalin set the table.

“I’m afraid you agreed to accompany me. I had no idea you’d show up and I already wrote Elrond about this development. Believe it or not, he’s actually quite reasonable, even cordial when needed. It’s you lot that can’t see things from their view-point. I’m sure if everyone gave it a shot, Dwarves and Elves can move past the past and develop a proper friendship.”

“Sure, let’s ask for the sun to rise in the west and set in the east while we’re at it,” Dwalin said.

“Neither is anything alike!”

“Sure they are: they’re both impossible.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to punch Dwalin in the shoulder. Hurting himself in attempt at hurting Dwalin wouldn’t exactly be productive now would it. “How about you tell me if there’s any other reason besides visiting that brings you to the Shire?” he said instead, watching his companions exchange looks.

“Not really,” Dwalin said.

“Nope,” Said Nori.

“Well there is a lass in Belegost that I wanted to introduce to Gimli—”

“ _Da_!” Gimli snapped. “Can you _not_?!”

“I don’t think you have much hope in him changing,” Frodo said. Gimli groaned, bowing his head. He then shoved Frodo lightly, but it was enough to send him falling to the ground in an unglorified heap and with a squeak escaping his throat. 

“No, I suppose not,” Bilbo said.

“So, tell us the tale of how you got a lad. I don’t remember some fifty-year-old pipsqueak running about these halls the last time I came this way.” That was about five years ago with Balin and Dori.

“He’s _not_ fifty,” Bilbo snapped. “He’s twenty-one.”

“That is not a twenty-one year old,” Gloin said.

“Have you forgotten that I told you that my people age faster than yours? I was _fifty_ on our quest.”

“Oh, right.”

“No, he’s twenty-one and quite a good age to be put to work and learning to hold a sword. I do not care for him fighting, but I am certain he would need to know a bit for any up-coming journeys.”

“Aye, that would be wise. Say there is an ambush though?”

“Well, then, I hope the four of us and Gimli will be enough. I’d rather Frodo not see battle if it can be helped.”

“Of course,” Gloin said, nodding. Nori shrugged and Dwalin cleared his throat.

“About those biscuits—”

“Not until after supper,” Bilbo snapped, fixing him with a glare that had, over time, been perfected.

Having a husband as maddening as Thorin and nephews as unruly as Fili and Kili was bound to do that. Still, Dwalin knew better than to press the issue with him.

The nerve!

“Can I have one too? Just one?” Frodo asked.

“What part of _not till after dinner_ is so hard to comprehend?”

“The ‘after’ part, I think,” Frodo said.

Dwalin narrowed his eyes at Bilbo. “Are you sure this kid is not—”

“I think I would know if I had a child,” Bilbo said, frowning. “Besides, dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’d like a biscuit too—after dinner of course,” Gimli said.

“For that, you get the first cookie,” Bilbo said.

The glares Dwalin and Frodo fixed on Gimli were priceless.


	6. Chapter 6

“Damn woman! Can’t give me a bloody moment of peace! I ought to…no, calm down, Bilbo. Deep breath…”

“Uncle? Frodo said cautiously. Bilbo glanced at him, trying to wipe the ire off his face and not entirely sure if he succeeded. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes. Just Lobelia. I don’t know why everyone assumes that now that there are Dwarves here that would mean that I would be running off again! Madness. It’s only a few months.”

“I know that and you know that. The Dwarves know that. I don’t think the other Hobbits do, though.”

“Oh, I suppose that is true enough…well, I suppose I could write something…”

“Like what?”

“A will,” Bilbo said. “I am old…I should probably get on that anyway. And there’s time to rewrite it when we come back. So long as Lobelia gets _nothing_ , I think we’ll be set, eh?”

Frodo rolled his eyes. “Sure Uncle.”

“Say we _don’t_ come back though, who would you rather take Bag End?”

Frodo hummed. “The Gamgees could do with a bigger house, I think.”

“Oh, good idea! Very good.”

“You look diabolical, Uncle.”

“Any moment to stick it to Lobelia is a reason to be a tad evil, I think. I’ve a grudge with _half_ the Shire, Frodo. All because they robbed my house!”

“I heard it was an auction.”

“They’d no proof that I was dead!”

“True.”

“Either way, I was still the master of Bag End and they just waltzed right in and tore the house apart! And Lobelia? Oh, she _never_ forgave me for it. As if I hadn’t every right to keep my house and my things! She had my best silverware in her pockets!”

“For something that took place nearly fifty years ago, you’re still quite angry about it…”

“I did say ‘grudge,’” Bilbo stated. “Not half minute ago. Have you wax building up in your ears?”

“I think I’ll just go fishing with Gimli.”

“Fishing? I thought you hated rivers?”

“Yeah, well, he made a point about how the best way to conquer a fear was too face it. Plus Dwarves are better swimmers so I trust him.”

Bilbo smirked. “Oh, you do?”

Frodo glared. “He’s just a friend.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“Not everyone’s going to fall in love with the first Dwarf that’s kind to him, Uncle.”

Bilbo sputtered at that. He did _not_ like Thorin the moment they met and Thorin certainly wasn’t _kind_. In any way! His bastard of a husband’s first words were quite insulting to Bilbo’s already frazzled state. To find that idiot had liked him the moment they met…

With a sigh, Bilbo decided he wasn’t going to be calming down anytime soon, especially if he kept thinking of Thorin—oh, he never had a day where he didn’t think of him.

_“Death-wed?” he asked._

_“It was the only way we could convince Dain to let you stay,” Balin said. “As you can guess, being death-wed is another word for widower or widow. Usually it is used for courting couples and one is dying, so they are death-wed and will be reunited in the halls of our creator.”_

_“And since Thorin and I were courting before, that allows us to be death-wed? It sounds cruel, Balin.”_

_“Perhaps, but they would not have let you come otherwise. They don’t know you, Bilbo. He would want you to be here. They all would. And had things not gone the way they did, I think Thorin would have wanted you to marry him._ _He was never good at portraying his emotions, but he did, in fact, value you quite highly. While many death-wed Dwarves do not remarry, it is out of personal choice, not obligation. You are not obligated to be alone the rest of your life.”_

_“I suppose that makes it easier…” he glanced at the tomb and his throat tightened. “I don’t...honestly, I’m not the sort who falls in love easily. I didn’t think I’d fall in love with Thorin, of all people, especially after all his disdain for me.”_

_“Oh, lad, he never hated you. Thorin was never good at conveying his emotions, but most of the company could tell: he loved you as soon as he saw you. A part of him didn’t want you to come and a part of him did. Granted, he was a great fool,” Balin squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder._

_“But he loved you, Bilbo, and no one can quite comprehend how he found his One in a Hobbit. Still, you have our friendship and loyalty as the widower of Thorin Oakenshield. You have the right to the throne, if you so wish it.”_

_“I don’t wish it,” Bilbo said, wiping his eyes. “What good would I be? I’m not a Dwarf. I don’t know a thing about your politics. No. I think I’ll go back to the Shire.”_

_“Are you sure? Even if you don’t take the throne, you are welcome here.”_

_“I know, but I,” he stopped, looking at the tomb again. “I can’t, Balin. To stay when he is gone, I don’t think I can do that.”_

_Balin hugged him and Bilbo wept._

He stared at the ring tied around his neck. The blue stone glinted in the sunlight and the silver band shone like fish-scales. He tucked it back under his shirt and cleared his throat, hoping to loosen it a bit. He sniffed and went to go write that will.

#

“You don’t know _anything_ about Thorin Oakenshield?” Gimli asked, almost jostling the boat. Frodo glared at him. “I _won’t_ let you fall out. Don’t give me that look.”

“Well, then stop rocking it,” Frodo said. “And no. Bilbo avoids talking about his husband. All I know is that he has one and that he’s dead. I didn’t even know his name was Thorin till now.” Gimli hummed. “Bilbo just gets this faraway look on his face when he thinks of him. At least I think he thinks about him. He just looks so sad.”

“Well, can’t really blame him. My da was beside himself for days when my mum died a decade ago. I didn’t really know what to do. He was so distraught. Anyway! Thorin Oakenshield was our king who led us during exile and also in Ered Luin. He was what you’d call a Boy-King.”

“And how am I to imagine that? A boy-king? Is such a thing possible?”

“More possible than you think,” Gimli said. “He was a little older than you are now. Well, equivalently.”

Oh. Frodo couldn’t imagine being Thain _now_. Let alone would he want to. “That’s quite an accomplishment. But I don’t think I’d want that.”

“No one does. But he was the oldest living heir after the battle of Azanulbizar. His grandfather was dead. His father was missing and presumed dead…it had to be him. He did the best he could given the circumstances and for the most part, did very well. That doesn’t mean he was perfect, but who is? You can’t expect anyone, even a king, to be perfect. But he was good and he was strong.”

“And my uncle?”

“They met later in life, but it’s said that Bilbo was his One, so new legends arose that Dwarves and Hobbits are sister-peoples. Your god is K—ah, you wouldn’t know the Khuzdul of it…it translates to Green Lady.”

“Yavanna?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, we do follow her, and we do have legends about being created by her, but we don’t really know the whole tale. No one bothered to write them down…though…” Frodo looked around. “There’s supposedly a guardian in the East from before we settled in the Shire many, many decades ago at least. I know it was long before Bilbo’s parent’s time. I think even before his great-great-grandfather…

“But anyway, there’s a rock somewhere where a tree laid its roots and the rock did not break. On it is an inscription telling how Hobbits came to be. But no one remembers it or even where it is.”

“I’ll find it,” Gimli said. “And I’ll send a transcript of what it says. But damn if that doesn’t confirm the whole sister-people idea.”

“Yeah. Well, it would confirm _something_ ,” Frodo agreed. “I’m not sure if it confirms that. Though I think it would be good if it could be found and we can regain some of our history. It kind of bugs me that we’re stuck on legends we can’t really explain or prove.”

“Aye, that is a problem.”

“No one else has a problem with it. Though I think if I asked Bilbo, he’d probably like the idea of looking for it and seeing it for ourselves.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I do. I’d love to get out of the Shire, but I can’t help but feel I might miss it a bit. Though, you know, I would like to go on an adventure like the one Bilbo went on.”

“No two adventures are alike. I don’t think you’re adventure—when you have it—will be like his at all. But don’t let that stop you. I’ve yet to go on an adventure or a quest myself. Would have gone on _that_ one if I was just a few years older. Da said it was too dangerous. I was furious at being left behind, but looking back, I was a bit too reckless still. Wait till you’re full grown, lad.”

“You’re not much older than me.”

“I’m a hundred and twelve.”

“Oh.” His pole tugged and Frodo began reeling in.

He almost overturned the boat in his excitement.

#

“What exactly is that?” Bilbo asked Frodo and Gimli.

“Dinner,” Frodo said, beaming.

“Aye, he did good,” Gimli said, arms crossed. Bilbo sighed.

“Very well. How about you show Frodo how to cook it over a campfire while you’re at it,” Bilbo said. “I have some rosemary and cilantro in the garden. Now go on.”

Gimli led him back outside and Bilbo shook his head.

“You sure you want that?” Dwalin asked.

“If they want to eat fish they caught, they can damn well cook it outside,” he said. “I won’t have my kitchen smelling like fish guts if I can help it. See this is why I go to the market: the gross part’s already been done.”

That and the idea of fish sort of made him a little sick to his stomach. After all, there was a flesh-eating creature still in the Misty Mountains…

“Aye but now fish guts will be getting all over the lawn,” he grinned. “Maybe even the flowers.”

Bilbo glared at him. “Don’t make me regret my decision.”

“Oh, I won’t be. I’m sure you’ll regret it all on your own later.”

Dwalin was right: Hamfast had quite a few things to say about there being fish entrails all over the lawn the next morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. Was at a convention all day when i wrote it, didn't have a chance to upload it here.

The day they left the Shire was actually a rather dismal, dreary day with fat raindrops and dark gray skies. Bilbo tossed Frodo's wetskin cloak and shouted at him to remind Bilbo to grab their handkerchiefs. It was near nine o'clock when they finally set out and the rain showed no sign of showing the travelers mercy. Frodo kept to the back with Gimli as both were attempting to avoid their respective guardians. Gimli more because his father could be a bit stifling and Frodo for the sake of saving face around his new friend.

Bilbo didn't mind it much. If Frodo preferred to spend time with Gimli, he would not begrudge him the companionship. Theirs was a mentor-student like relationship that was common among many tweens and young adults. That night, Gloin sent Gimli to hunt their dinner and Frodo went along with him, insisting that he wanted to learn.

Bilbo wasn't sure he believed him.

"Think nothing of it, lad," Dwalin said. "They'll get sick of each other before the end."

"Well I hope not. Frodo would benefit from more friends. He has far to few in the Shire. The consider him something of a pariah." Dwalin stared at him and Nori burst into laughter. 

Gloin patted Bilbo's back. "That's too bad. He's a right good lad, your Frodo."

Bilbo smiled at him. "Thank you, Gloin. I needed to hear that. Frodo's reputation is...it's touch for us." 

"A lad has no use for anything as fussy as a damn reputation," Dwalin said. "He's got a good sword-arm and keen sense. You'd do better to raise him in a place where he can hone his skill." 

"Like where? Moria? Erebor? We are Hobbits, Dwalin. We don't belong with Dwarves." 

"Of course you do," Nori said. "You're part of the Company. You'll always be one of us." 

Bilbo hummed. He wasn't sure if he'd believe that. Death-wed or not, he still stole the Arkenstone, he still betrayed everything that he had stood for and hence still blamed himself for his actions and, sometimes, Thorin's death. Even if it had not really been his fault, there was a measure of responsibility that made him wonder if he had really made the right decision that day. True, Thorin had been sick with the dragon sickness, but the heartbreak in his eyes still haunted Bilbo when he couldn't sleep. 

No matter what anyone told him--Gandalf, Bard, Balin, Thranduil, Rain, and even Elrond--he still felt as though he did something that eventually cost his beloved his life. 

_I don't want to make that mistake again. Ever._

Frodo and Gimli returned with two hares. Frodo beamed brightly. "I caught one myself!" 

"No need to mention that you couldn't kill it," Gimli mumbled. Gloin slapped the back of his head. 

"Behave yourself, lad." Gimli threw his hands up and went to get a fire started. Nori helped, holding a spare wetskin over the pit. Bilbo approached Frodo. 

"Still doing all right?" 

"Yes. Why do you ask?" 

"It isn't the most ideal start of our journey." 

"It's rain. Nothing to be done about it. It isn't that much of a hindrance, more an inconvenience and, really, it, could be worse." 

"I suppose that is true. We could have forgotten our wetskins." 

"I was thinking it could be storming. But that too." 

Leave it to tweens to remind you of how you are powerless against nature. Damn. 

"Well, let's hope it doesn't get to that." 

He glanced at his companions, hoping they would give him some advice on how to handle a tween's dour attitude. Dwalin and Nori ignored him. Gloin shrugged as if to say: "Can't help you. Sorry." Actually, sans the "sorry." There was no way he would feel any pity for Bilbo. 

#

Frodo stared at the trolls with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Bilbo cleared his throat, smirking at Frodo. "Believe me now?" 

"There's no way you managed this on your own!" 

"How's that for admiration?! I had not lied to you once,  Frodo Baggins. The least you could do is give me the benefit of the doubt."

"That makes me doubt you more, uncle." 

He looked at the others. "You could back me up." 

"Oh sure," Dwalin said. "Let's revisit the memory where you suggest to three trolls that the best way to cook Dwarf is the skin them first!" 

"It was fifty years ago." 

"I said I wouldn't forget it. I keep my vows, Burglar." 

"He does," Nori said, nodding. "Beyond a doubt he does." 

Bilbo sighed. They were horrid. Truly. "If you remember, I was pressed for time. It was a bad thing to say. I admit that now. Sometimes though,  I really wonder what could happen if I were to cook you." They laughed. 

"We'd like to see you try." 

"Not before we learned the taste of Hobbit." 

"Keep dreaming, Baggins." 

Bilbo glared at them. Of course they would mock him. He wasn't a warrior nor even a real burglar. It wasn't likely that he'd be able to overpower any of them. But damn him if he didn't try. "We are going to Rivendell," he announced. "I expect you all to behave. Otherwise, I will request that we have nothing but salad for the entire duration of our stay." The looks he received were priceless. 

"You wouldn't." 

He smirked at Dwalin. "Oh, my friends, I most certainly would." 

"Is it just me or are adults just petty?" Frodo asked Gimli. 

"Honestly, I can't tell. Maybe..." 

"Careful what you say next, lad," Gloin snarled. Gimli arched a brow. 

"Or what? You'll put me on watch?" 

"For a week and don't you forget it." 

"Bring it, old man." 

Frodo laughed and clapped his hands. Gloin looked at Bilbo. 

"Are you going to stand for this?" 

"Stand for what? Young lads being lads? I think if our parents survived it then so can we." 

"Brave words, Master Baggins," Nori said. "Gimli, get dinner will you. Frodo, help set camp." 

"Why am I doing all the hunting?" 

"Because you're better at it than us old Dwarves," Dwalin said, aiming a kick at his butt. Gimli jumped out of his way, glaring at him. "Go on. I'd like some bird if you can catch it." 

"Don't see why someone who still has food eyes and ears cannot catch their own dinner." 

He disappeared into the woods around the trolls while Nori showed Frodo how to build a fire and the others set up camp. 

"Bilbo, take first watch," Dwalin said. "I'll go after. Frodo, it's about time you took a shift yourself now." Frodo looked pale on the face of a night watch. Dwalin patted his shoulder, nearly toppling him over. "You'll do just fine." Frodo looked at Bilbo, who nodded. Frodo would be fine. Except not at that time. 

"Dwalin, how about Frodo and I switch? The lad would do better if he stays up late rather than get up early." 

Dwalin stared at Frodo, who still looked like a rabbit caught in a snare. "Aye, that might be better. First watch then, lad. We're counting on you." Frodo gulped and nodded. Bilbo patted his shoulder. 

"It's not as bad as you think, Frodo. Nothing usually happens. It's just a precaution." 

"That doesn't make me feel better, Bilbo." 

# 

_He gasped, spinning around and reaching for his sword (or letter opener if Balin was to be believed). It was Thorin, who raised his hands._

_"Peace, Master Burglar."_

_Bilbo sighed and set the sword down. "Do you intend to make a habit of sneaking up on me? Am I not allowed even a little privacy, Thorin?"_

_"I am not sure if you could get aany privacy in the halls."_

_"Surely more than what would be on the road," Bilbo said, sinking under the thankfully steamy, milk-white water. "Perhaps if you are so concerned about my privacy you would do me the courtesy of leaving me to bathe in peace."_

_Thorin arched a brow and Bilbo sunk a little lower._

_"Please?"_

_"Does it bother you? Bathing with others?"_

_"It isn't done where I am from. Except maybe among spouses. And you are certainly not my spouse, so if you please."_ _T_ _horin looked far more amused than Bilbo would like him to be._ _"_ _Thorin..."_

_"All right, I will leave you be, except, Master Baggins, we are all male here. It is nothing any of us have not seen."_

_He left and Bilbo finished bathing in peace, left to think about what Thorin said._

_Nope, he decided. It would not do._


	8. Chapter 8

_“Ghivashel.” The arms around his waist tightened. “My burglar. I’ve missed you.”_

_“As have I.”_

_Thorin nuzzled his neck. “I am selfish in saying that I had hoped we’d be reunited sooner.”_

_“Indeed. I’ve a lad to care for. I can’t exactly die now, can I?”_

_“He looks like he’ll be a strong Hobbit one day. I trust you’ll do well by him, Ghivasheluh.”_

_Bilbo hummed, leaning back against Thorin’s chest. “I can’t promise I’ll be dying any time soon. I’d like to at least see Frodo to adulthood first.”_

_“Of course.”_

_“After that, well, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.”_

“Bilbo,” Dwalin said, shaking him awake, “Time for your watch.”

Bilbo blinked, and yawned, getting out of bed and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he dislodged himself from the bedroll and took a place at the fire. Dwalin handed him a cup of coffee and went back to his bed roll. He drank the coffee and stared at the embers. He wasn’t exactly alert yet. It would take a moment, of course, and as it was, the dream he had was…

He hadn’t dreamt anything like that in what felt like decades. Earlier dreams after Thorin’s death usually involved Bilbo hitting him, wailing, screaming at him for dying and Thorin would just let him. Eventually it went from there to conversations on how much he missed him, telling him about his day, asking him what the afterlife is like. Eventually they stopped and he wondered if this new journey is what started them up again. With that, he glanced at the trolls.

Yes.

It most likely was the journey.

The branches cracked and Bilbo stood, heading over to Dwalin to wake him. 

“Peace,” the newcomer whispered, halting Bilbo. He turned to the speaker, reaching for Sting. “Friends are among you, Master Hobbit,” the man said, holding his hands up. He pulled his hood down and Bilbo stared at the man.“You don’t recognize me? I wouldn’t be surprised. It had been many a year since we last saw each other, Master Baggins.”

“And where is it that we knew each other?”

“Rivendell. Fifty years ago. I would have been a boy.”

“A b— _Estel_!”

The man grinned. “Among the Rangers, I prefer my birth name: Aragorn son of Arathorn, though if you are more comfortable with Estel, by all means use it.”

Bilbo motioned for him to sit. “I would have expected you to be much older than you look.”

“I’m Dunedain, so while my childhood was rather standard, aging…well, it’s not quite like an Elf’s but close enough.”

“Ah. Yes, you don’t look a day beyond thirty.”

“And you not a day older than I saw you last. Perhaps a bit more grey in the hair, but beside that…I have met many a Hobbit and know they do not age much past a hundred for all that they age at a slower pace than Men.”

Bilbo shrugged. “Some are quite well preserved.”

“Not _this_ well preserved.”

“Says the sixty year old Dunedain Ranger,” Bilbo said, arching a brow at him. Aragorn shrugged and looked around. “What?”

“Four Dwarves and two Hobbits on the road,” he said. “I’m unsure if this is stranger than the last time you traveled east.”

“Well, we aren’t traveling as far east this time around. Not me and my nephew, anyway. We’ve been invited to see Moria now that it’s in Dwarfish hands again. We’re making a short stop to Rivendell on the way. Besides, getting out of the Shire was necessary for both me and my boy.”

Aragorn hummed. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “I hope you’re companions won’t object to me joining you. I am headed to Rivendell as well. There’s a feast in three days’ time to honor the eighth century of my friend Legolas’ life.”

“Oh…Legolas is going to be there?”

“Yes. Is that bad?”

“We’ve met. It was not a pleasant experience.”

“You may see a new side of him. He can be rather tenacious and duty driven, but he can be an enjoyable fellow when given the chance.”

“Estel.”

“Yes?”

“Why is he celebrating in Rivendell and not the Greenwood? Wouldn’t this be celebrated with his kin?”

Aragorn shrugged. “All I know is after you returned to Rivendell, he showed up looking for me. His father had called me Strider which is a nickname given me by the Elves and Men because of how fast I tend to move. Even now, it ended up sticking…Of course; he wasn’t expecting me to be a child.”

“Ah. Did you have fun with him?”

Aragorn grinned. “I could write books about the trouble I put him through, but I think I’ll spare the tale till later when I can best use it to annoy him.”

“Some things never change, I see.”

“Indeed not,” Aragorn said. “Though I will admit I am more mature than I was then.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“I’m sure there will be a day I do not find a way to rile my elders into a frenzy, but as it is, that is not this day,” he said with a shrug and a grin.

“Well, you’ll have four Dwarves at your disposal. I think we’ll definitely be enjoying our stay.”

A bedroll shuffled and Frodo sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at them and blinked. “Bilbo?”

“Yes?”

“Who’s that?”

“This is Estel, ward to Lord Elrond. Well, he _used_ to be his ward, anyway. He’s a Ranger of the North these days.”

“Oh. Okay.” He got out of bed and headed for the bushes.

“Your nephew?”

“Indeed.”

“He’s young.”

“Ah, yes, he’s twenty-one.” Bilbo stretched. “He’s a good lad if nothing else. He’s the quiet sort, but there’s a strength in him that I like. Spirit, I suppose. My companions think he’s got talent with a sword, which is good in case something were to happen on our journey, Yavanna forbid, but there you are. If he’s up, I take it the others will not be far behind.”

“You’re taking on some hard years, Master Baggins.”

“I happen to be looking forward to the challenge,” Bilbo said. Frodo returned and sat beside Bilbo, staring at Aragorn with tired eyes.

“You’re a ranger?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said.

“Can a Hobbit join?”

Aragorn blinked. “When you’re an adult, you may, but I’ve never knew a Hobbit to be interested in joining the Rangers.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing against your people, but they’ve never seemed interested in joining.”

“Their loss,” Frodo said. “I want to join. Any chance to get out of the Shire will be a good one.”

Bilbo grinned. Oh, their relatives would _definitely_ say that Bilbo was corrupting Frodo.

Aragorn smirked. “I like you,” he said. “When you come of age you are certainly welcome to join us. In the meantime, you’re best chances would be to study with the Elves and Dwarves in the art of defense and warfare. For what it’s worth, I find that Hobbits would make excellent rangers.”

Frodo grinned and Bilbo stood. “I think I will make breakfast,” he decided as Aragorn explained what to expect if Frodo did in fact join the rangers in twelve years.

#

_As Dwarves were first born of rock and fire, the first Hobbits came about from the earth and water. They were mild in nature, though fierce as a storm when angered._

_The Elves were fascinated by them as much as they had been by the Dwarves, and as they were smaller than Nogothrim, the Elves named them Perianeth, the Halflings._ _The Hobbits took the name in stride till some learned its meaning._

 _Hobbits were the size they were meant to be and saw everyone else as abnormally tall and unnecessarily violent and believed it had something to do with the air that floated higher._ _Relationships with the more volatile Big-Folk usually were avoided as a result._ _But with the Dwarves, Hobbits found a measure of companionship. The Seven Dwarf Lords met with the Three Hobbit Clan leaders and from there, a friendship was born._

 _For a time, it was not uncommon to see a Dwarf courting a Hobbit._ _Such relationships were deemed destined and any offspring from them was always treated as the one best suited to speak on behalf of their valar._ _But as such is the nature of things, there was pain and there was sorrow and there was suffering and unions between the Dwarves and the Hobbits ceased._

_Their tomes lost and forgotten…_

_Both peoples found it easier to forget and, eventually, both Dwarves and Hobbits forgot that they had ancestors who celebrated together, lived together, and loved together._

_Let it be said, however, that there were those who longed for a day where Dwarves and Hobbits would reunite, hiding the secrets beneath the White Tree in the Stone Circle._ _It was named “Labamul Zarzu id-‘aban Megmel” by the Dwarves. A passing myth, a bedtime story for little ones to latch onto for hope._

_But nothing more than that is known of this tree these days._

_It was the ancient peoples’ hope that one day, a descendant will arrive and unearth their history and the truth returned to light._

_But as the time passed, it seemed more and more unlikely that this history would ever be exhumed._

* * *

 ~Khuzdul~

Labamul zarsu id-‘aban megmel=(roughly) the white-like tree of the stone circle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about last week. I was shot of energy from an early morning shift at work...anyway, here you are.

“Hail, Lord Elrond!” Bilbo called, bowing.

Frodo mimed him and the others, looking a tad bit lost. They straightened as Bilbo and Elrond carried on a conversation in Sindarin for a small moment. He then embraced Aragorn and whispered to him. Aragorn pulled away with a large grin on his face and walked away.

“I hope,” Elrond said, “That you’d willingly stay for Lord Legolas’ birthday party. It should be quite the…event.”

“So long as there’s meat this time, I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” Dwalin said.

Bilbo shot him a glare. “My apologies, Lord Elrond,” he said. “My companions still have not mastered the art of politeness.” Dwalin shrugged and the others sniggered behind their hands. “May in introduce my ward, Frodo Baggins.”

Frodo tensed and stepped closer. Elrond’s smile widened. “Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins.”

“Thank you, Lord Elrond,” he said, bowing his head. “And thank you for your hospitality.”

“See, Dwalin,” Bilbo said. “ _That_ is how it’s done.”

Frodo blushed and hid his face behind his hands. “ _Bilbo…_ ”

“What?”

Elrond laughed and they were led to rooms and offered time to relax before dinner. As Frodo got ready, Bilbo went to meet with Elrond.

“I did not take you to be the parenting type.”

“I’m not. Not really,” Bilbo said. “I recently adopted Frodo, you see. Lad’s got a rebellious streak a mile wide and I liked his spirit. Besides, my relatives were hounding me about heirs, and Frodo is an orphan who’s part of the Baggins family. It was the quickest solution. Besides, he’s got quite a bit of spirit. Perhaps more than I accounted for.”

“He does. When I look at him, I see both a sad past he needs to come to terms with and yet when I looked into his eyes, I saw great happiness and also great sorrow.”

Bilbo looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I do not yet know,” he said. “Only that something in future is going to leave him broken.”

“Is there anything to be done about that?”

“I do not know. I have had this power for many years,” Elrond said. “And navigating it…it never gets easier. I look into the future and I see hope, but I also see horrors that cannot be stopped no matter how much I wish I could. I used to try and result in trying to change the future was disastrous. So the most I am sure you can do is give him the years he deserves and to be there for him when whatever trial Frodo Baggins is destined to face comes to play.”

“That’s it? There’s nothing else I can do?”

“I’m afraid that’s the lot in life of many parents and guardians. You can’t protect them from everything.”

“But we can try, can’t we?”

“Yes,” he said. “Trying is the most we can hope to do.”

#

“I would not have taken you to be the kind to consort with Dwarves,” Legolas said, leaning back in a chair, book open on his lap, but otherwise forgotten. “Or Halflings, for that matter.”

“Hobbits,” Aragorn corrected. “Halfling is as derogatory as Naugrim. You should know better than to insult neighboring races.”

“Dwarves—”

“Are still people. I would think after a few decades out of your father’s influence would help, but I suppose you’ve been under his thumb too long to change—Frodo! Gimli! Come join us!”

Legolas glanced at them and rolled his eyes. “They are beneath us, Aragorn—ow!”

“They are not. Gimli is the son of a lord of Erebor and Frodo is the nephew of the Burglar of Erebor. Prince or no, I would have you show them respect.”

“Look who’s gotten all authoritative,” Legolas muttered, but said no more as Gimli and Frodo arrived.

“Is this your friend, Aragorn? The one having the birthday party?”

“You didn’t,” Legolas growled.

“They were going to be here anyway, I don’t see the problem.”

“ _Is_ there a problem?” Gimli asked, arching a brow at Legolas. Legolas met his gaze with an icy glare. He picked his book up and resumed reading.

“Well, he’s rude,” Frodo said.

“He is being _very_ rude,” Aragorn said.

“Well, if he doesn’t want to be sociable, or thinks he’s above proper manners, he’s probably not worth it,” Frodo said.

Legolas lowered the book. “What did you say, Halfling?”

Frodo grit his teeth. “You wanna go, Longshanks?”

“Longshanks?” Gimli asked. Aragorn coughed a laugh and whispered in Gimli’s ear. Gimli’s eyebrows rose and he smirked. “I like that.”

“Yeah.”

“I could take you,” Frodo sniffed.

Legolas threw his head back and laughed. “Keep dreaming, little one. You’re kind has no talent besides farming. I doubt you’d know how to use a sword.”

Frodo lunged and yanked on Legolas’ hair with one hand and the other arm wrapped around his throat. Gimli and Aragorn looked at each other. Aragorn pried Frodo off Legolas and handed him to Gimli who held him back with his arms locked under Frodo’s arms.

“Never thought I’d be saying mind your temper, but in this case Frodo, I’d mind your temper.”

“Let me go!” Frodo shouted. “I’m just gonna hit him till he stops moving!”

Legolas massaged his throat. “The little beast…”

“Is twenty one,” Aragorn snapped. “Which would be the same as forty for a dwarf, and I think fifty for an elf. Or were you calm at that age.”

“Oh, so we’ve a _little_ Halfling.”

“ _Legolas_ ,” Aragorn warned, taking his shoulder. “Your prejudices are unjustified. They had done nothing to you warranting your treatment.”

“Whatever,” Legolas muttered, picking up his book. “You used to be sensible.”

“I do not think we agree on the definition of sensible,” Aragorn said. Once Legolas was gone, he sat down and massaged his forehead. “I am truly sorry for that. I did not think he would act so cruelly. He’s usually much kinder.”

“I doubt that,” Gimli said, letting Frodo go. “Then again, he’s the same who saw a picture of me back sixty years ago and called me a goblin mutant.”

“Who told you that?” Aragorn asked, furious.

“I think Ori wrote it down and I happened to read it? Yeah. That sounds right.”

“Either way, it was uncalled for.”

“He’s an Elf. I’m used to it,” Gimli said, shrugging. “Not to say I tolerate it, but I think Frodo had enough fight in him for me and him combined. Still, I never expected an Elf to act like _that_ around a Hobbit. The others seemed to really like Bilbo.”

“Bilbo broke the Dwarves out of the Elven King’s dungeon,” Frodo said. “And that’s the Elven King’s son, right?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said. “He’s his son.”

“Then that might be where his disdain for me comes from. I can imagine it was a sore spot for him.”

“Probably, but that doesn’t excuse him.”

“Understanding where his disdain stems does not make it justified,” Frodo said.

“Wise words,” Aragorn said, grinning. “Where’d you hear them?”

“Just now out of my own mouth,” Frodo said.

Aragorn arched a brow and Gimli grinned. “Balin’s going to like you,” Gimli said.

“Yeah, well, I think so far I like Elves of Rivendell and Dwarves of Erebor better than my own kin. Except Bilbo when he’s not going out of his way to embarrass me.”

“You called him giving you a pat on the back and displaying his pride in your manners embarrassing?” Gimli deadpanned. “Lad, you do _not_ know embarrassing until he starts talking about what you did a hundred years ago set with pictures. You don’t _know_ embarrassing.”

“It was bad enough.”

“Trust me, that was _not_ bad,” Gimli said.

“It felt bad enough.”

“Aye, felt it, but not it. I don’t think Bilbo has sufficient material to truly try his hand at embarrassing you as it is. Consider yourself lucky. Very lucky.”

Aragorn waved at a servant and spoke in the silky Sindarin dialect. The servant nodded, bowed her head and went off. “Lunch is on the way.”

“Great!” Frodo said, perking up. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always hungry.”

“I’m a Hobbit. I’m used to eating at least _twice_ your meals, what do you expect?”

“I think you’ve got a bottomless hole for a stomach.”

“I would not mind that,” Frodo said with a large grin.

#

Frodo stared at the mural, unsure what it was about it that made him uneasy. Images like this were common. Iconic. Everywhere. It really shouldn’t get to him.

And yet…

“Where have you been?” Bilbo asked, sounding less angry and more relieved. “I thought you got lost or kidnapped.”

“I think I can take care of myself, Uncle.”

“Sadly, there are many here who do not agree with that sentiment, lad. Dinner’s ready. It’s going to be quite the feast in Legolas’ honor.”

“Legolas is a tomnoddy and a cad.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to like him. Just play nice for a little bit. I’m sure he’ll loosen up around you in a bit.”

“I doubt it,” he said, deciding not to enlighten Bilbo in that he had choked him earlier. “Can I stay close to Aragorn or Gimli?”

“I don’t see why not, but Aragorn will likely be close to Legolas.”

“Gimli then.”

“Aye, if you say so.”

“And you? Where are you sitting?”

Bilbo grinned. “Well, Lord Elrond _is_ a friend of mine.”

“You could just say you’ll be at the host’s table.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I think you have too much fun.”

“Never such a thing, my lad. Never such a thing.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I were to be naming chapters, this one would be:  
> What Happens in Rivendell STAYS in Rivendell
> 
> Or, that chapter where nothing happens but you get your laughs so it's worth it
> 
> Posted early because I'll be out of town Saturday, so I figured I'd write Friday's chapter today and Saturday's tomorrow while I still have time

The halls were filled with merry music and wine flowed graciously from the pitcher to the cup.

The table was laden with food ranging from beef, pork, chicken, and venison. There was an array of nut and fruit breads and rolls, as well as salads seasoned in salad-sauces.

The Elves laughed heartily as were the Dwarves, who, Frodo guessed, were already drunk.

Bilbo patted his back.

“Try to enjoy yourself and don’t cause any trouble. I heard about your fight with Legolas. My advice: keep your distance from him and hope he does the same. We wouldn’t want any more scuffles, would we? And watch the wine. It’s stronger than you think.”

With that, he went to the host’s table and Frodo walked over to where the Dwarves were, settling beside Gimli and reaching for a piece of chicken. He might as well eat.

And as for the drunkenness, well…

Frodo grinned.

It was a party.

He tapped Nori’s shoulder. “That Elf over there’s been talking shit about your brother,” he said, pointing at a rather burly looking, blond Elf.

Nori turned to the Elf in question, then back at Frodo.

“Are you sure?”

Frodo nodded and Nori jumped up, charging at the Elf.

He smirked.

This would be fun.

#

Bilbo was certain everything was going well. He was certain everything would be fine. But, of course, when Nori tackled Glorfindel, all hope of a nice, joyful if not peaceful evening was ruined. Once Nori had tackled the warrior of legend, Gloin and Dwalin were on him as well.

All shouting nonsense about how they heard him insulting Ori. Or was it Dori? They weren’t sure nor did it matter. Glorfindel was insulting one of Nori’s brothers and therefore needed to be put down.

Only Gimli was spared and even then only because he refused to drink the wine like Frodo. Frodo had a suspiciously bright grin on his face through the whole ordeal and Gimli was hiding his face in his hands, thoroughly embarrassed in his father’s name.

In the end, the trio were taken to the dungeons till they were sober and Glorfindel sent to the healer for the few scratches he actually got.

As for where the rumor originated, they all pointed at Frodo, who’s smile ebbed and he tried to sneak away. Bilbo seized his arm. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! But it was kind of funny.”

“All four of them could have been hurt! Glorfindel _was_ hurt!”

“It’s not like he’s dead,” Frodo said, shrugging. Bilbo pulled him closer.

“Another stunt like that and you will be sent to bed without supper. That is _not_ how you have fun. Especially not in another person’s _house_ , Frodo. You’re a good lad, I know you are, but right now, I am doubting that and it would be nice if you could settle those doubts. No more setting people on each other because you think it’s funny.”

“Fine, whatever,” Frodo said.

Bilbo let him go and sent him to bed. With that, he sighed and decided to go on a walk to clear his head. He needed it after _that_ stunt.

_What got into him?_

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was a wise thing, but no one was seriously hurt,” Elrond said. “Glorfindel is fine. The only thing wounded drastically is his ego.”

“And my friends?”

“Also fine, save for the strong possibility of being very ill tomorrow morning. I doubt they’ll remember a thing. And if they do, I do not think your lecture will be the last Frodo will undergo.”

“He’s usually better behaved. I swear.”

“I believe you,” Elrond said. “My sons were just as bad.”

“They didn’t almost hurt four people by inciting a drunken brawl.”

“No, but they have almost hurt people with their pranks. My daughter was a frequent victim of theirs as was Legolas when he was younger. And Aragorn, as well. And then Aragorn turned the tables on them and it wasn’t fun anymore.”

Bilbo snorted. “Oh dear.”

“All things considered, it really could have been worse for Frodo.”

“True,” Bilbo sighed, crossing his arms. “Seems no matter what happens trouble seems to happen when I come to Rivendell.”

“Well, not once had you been to Rivendell alone. I’m sure that if you came here alone for once it would perhaps be the paragon of relaxation that it really is.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Bilbo said, managing a smile. “Still, I will have Frodo apologize to Glorfindel for this. And to my friends.”

Elrond nodded and invited Bilbo to have some tea.

#

“Really don’t know what you were thinking,” Gimli said when he found Frodo. “What did you think that’d do?”

“It wasn’t supposed to _do_ anything but be entertaining,” Frodo said, shrugging. “It’s not like I meant for anyone to get hurt or tossed in prison.”

“Well, think it _through_ next time, will you.”

“Sure…” he tossed a ball in the air and caught it before throwing it back up. “You think Bilbo will stay mad at me.”

“Nah. He’ll let it go eventually. At least you didn’t set them on Legolas. Thankfully, he’s too drunk to even care, last I saw him. Actually, about that, do you mind if I hide here for a bit?”

“Why?”

“He complimented my beard. It was a nice compliment, but since he’s an Elf...”

“And drunk. Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks.” Gimli closed the door behind him and slid under the bed. Frodo’s eyebrows shot up and he bent over. “Really appreciate it.”

“I can see that. Why are you under the bed?”

Gimli grinned. “You’ll see.”

And he did: when Bilbo came to talk to him some more in a much calmer manner, allowing Gimli to grab his ankle.

The scream was heard through all of Rivendell and Bilbo kicked him out, threatening grievous bodily harm as Frodo cackled, clutching his stomach.

#

“Well that was entertaining,” Aragorn said as Frodo waited for him to get him down from the snare he’d gotten caught in.

Frodo scowled at him and Gimli—blasted Dwarf was laughing too much to be of any use—as he was lowered back to the ground.

“Are you _sure_ you didn’t deserve it?”

“I’m positive! I did nothing to your brothers.”

“No, but you did do something to Glorfindel,” Aragorn said. “I can promise you that it was him who set this trap for you.”

“And that was a perfectly good cake too…” Frodo moaned, staring at the remnants of the seed cake that now lay on the floor in a splattered mess. Gimli roared with laughter, red faced from the lack of oxygen. Once free, Frodo punched his arm and walked away shaking his fist.

Aragorn shoved him. “Be nice.” Gimli, surely, would have said something about how he’s always nice, but as he was still choked up with mirth, it was hard to say whether he’d actually be able to say that or not. “You did have it coming,” Aragorn said as Frodo sulked.

“I know,” he said. “It was just supposed to be a joke.”

“Pranks and jokes always have some sort of rebound around here, I’ve found. You’re better off keeping your head low and even then someone may very well try to pull your underwear over your head.”

Frodo looked at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re speaking from experience?”

“Likely because I am,” Aragorn said.

“Cool.”

“It’s not cool! It was painful!”

“Maybe we should check on Gimli,” Frodo said, looking at him. “Make sure he’s not going to die from laughing too much. I heard that could happen.”

“Well, I doubt checking on him will make it better,” Aragorn said.

#

“There better be a good reason we’re just _now_ getting out of here,” Dwalin snarled at the Elves.

“There is: they wanted to be completely sure you were all sober,” Bilbo said as he helped Nori out of the cell. Nori was still suffering the effects of the wine, given he had ended up drinking the most out of the trio. “And as for _what_ got you in here, you’ll have to thank my nephew. Maybe your son, too, Gloin.”

Gloin hummed. “I can believe that.”

“Really?”

“I love the lad, but Gimli can be a right pain in the arse when it suits him.”

“Well, he hasn’t admitted anything. He might not have been involved, but he did give me a right scare. May have shaved off a decade or two of my life.”

“What did he do now?”

“He hid under Frodo’s bed and grabbed my ankle.”

#

Another three days passed before the Dwarves were deemed well enough to leave. Finding Frodo hanging upside down from another snare was not expected and Bilbo fretted for another hour while shouting threats at the Elves responsible for holding them up.

Still, it was a rather eventful stay, even when it wasn’t eventful.

“Are you sure you’re all right,” he said.

“Yes, Uncle, I’m fine,” Frodo huffed, cheeks lit with embarrassment over the hovering. “I really am fine, so could you stop that? I’m not a child.”

“No, indeed you’re not. You’re a tween and a troublemaking one at that.”

“But I was bored!”

“There were plenty of books.” Frodo scoffed at that and Bilbo arched a brow. “Perhaps you’d rather that Dwalin train you? I’m sure you wouldn’t be bored then.”

Frodo blanched. “I think I’ll be fine, thanks.”


	11. Chapter 11

The following three weeks it took to reach the gates of Moria were uneventful. Somehow. Bilbo admitted that his last trip over the mountain hadn’t been as hazardous as last time. Nori joked about how Bilbo might have found the pass in a good mood and Bilbo simply shrugged.

“It’s likely,” he said. “Hopefully they’ll be in a good mood now.”

The others laughed and Frodo glanced behind at him, frowning. Bilbo then recounted the tale of how they passed through these mountains the first time. Stone giants, goblins…riddles in the dark with a flesh-eating creature.

By some surprise, by the time he finished his (regularly interrupted) tale (damn Dwarves had to give their two-cents!), they arrived at the gates which were thrown wide for them and a pair of armored guards came. Dwalin saluted them, and the salute was returned. A few short words were exchanged in Khuzdul before Dwalin motioned for Bilbo to approach.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Dwalin said, clapping his shoulder. He spoke a little more in Khuzdul and the guards bowed with deep _at your service_ -s. With that, the rest of the group was led inside.

The halls were brighter than Bilbo ever saw, thanks to the gems embedded in the rock illuminated by the torchlight. Dwarf men and women walked around, carrying their wares and conversations along. A youngish looking Dwarf—an adult of good age, with a fair brown-red beard and long hair to match approached.

Nori whooped and embraced him and Bilbo’s eyebrows rose. “Is that Ori?!”

“Indeed it is,” Dwalin said. “Not so much a lad anymore, he is.”

Bilbo agreed. The last he saw Ori, he was still growing into his beard and had the lanky body of an older tween, a bit of a resigned attitude toward Dori, whereas Nori’s was always rebellious, but as he looked at them now, Bilbo almost guessed they were twins! He knew they weren’t but the resemblance was almost uncanny now.

Ori’s hair had always been redder than Nori’s and the kindness in his eyes was still there with the adventurous gleam he had carried when they met almost fifty years ago now. But aside from that, he had the same build as Nori, and his beard was nearly as impressive as his brothers. With the absence of Dori around to ensure the bowl cut, his hair was allowed to grow down his back, held back in traditional warrior braids as well as the two braids in his beard that symbolized his status and profession.

After a few words between the brothers, Ori turned to them. “I assume all went well in the Blue Mountains?”

“Well as can be expected,” Gloin said. “Stopped in the Shire and picked up a couple of Hobbits.”

“I see that,” Ori said, embracing Gloin briefly. He bowed his head to Dwalin before turning to Bilbo. “It’s good to see you again,” he said. Bilbo embraced him. “And you should be too old and withered to be walking the wild.”

“Apparently I age well,” Bilbo said. “And even if I were wrinkly, I brought a hearty lad with me,” he added, winking at Frodo who blushed and crossed his arms, head bowed.

Well that was odd. Ori didn’t seem to think much of it, just laughed.

“A bit shy, I suppose.”

“Not _that_ shy,” Bilbo said, watching Frodo curiously. His behavior didn’t change and the blush only darkened. Bilbo smirked. “Perhaps he has a crush on you, Ori.”

Ori laughed lightly and Frodo stared at Bilbo, mortified. “Perhaps I should show you your rooms,” he said, “You’re journey must have been tiring.”

“And where is Balin?” Dwalin asked.

“He’s been in a meeting all day,” Ori said. “We found the mithril mines just a couple days ago and we’re debating whether it’d be safe to mine them or not.”

“And Durin’s Bane?”

“No sign of it yet,” Ori said, “It probably doesn’t exist, you know. We try not to let superstition stop us here.” Bilbo winced at the icy tone Ori directed at Dwalin, and looked between them, trying to discern what happened between them. They got along just fine the last time Bilbo saw them together. There were even rumors of a possible courtship between them.

By Mordor, he joined in on the betting on whether they’d get together!

After they were given their rooms, Bilbo cornered Ori. “Is everything all right between you and Dwalin? Last I heard, you two had married.”

“We did,” Ori said. “Still are, technically.”

“Then what happened? It was colder than winter between you two.”

Ori pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Difference of opinion,” he said, sitting down. “I wanted to come here. Dwalin didn’t, said it was a lost colony and should stay lost. Too many people died here, and so on. I didn’t agree with him, wanted to get away from Erebor and see the world. More of it, that is. I’m sure someday I’ll be leaving here, too just to do that, but for now I’m needed here. A few more decades and I’ll likely be sick of it.”

“The two of you are far too stubborn for your lives.”

“Perhaps,” Ori said, “But I recall another couple who were just as stubborn as us, if not more.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know Thorin loved me till he was dying,” he said.

“And he was certain you never would. I can’t tell you how many times Dwalin admitted to wanting to bash his head against a rock because of it,” Ori said, a small smile crossing his face. “To be honest, I still love him, but there’s just so much anger right now and I’m…”

“Well, first of all, I don’t think you should let it fester,” Bilbo said. “Nor do I think giving him the cold shoulder is really going to help your marriage. Also, I’m quite sure I’ll need to keep Frodo away from Dwalin for a bit.” Ori laughed.

“Yes, I think you should. You’re lad’s adorable, but he’s a bit too young for me.”

“He’s too young for nearly everyone here. He’s not yet twenty-one, after all,” Bilbo said, smiling. “If anything, it’s cute to watch him trip over his feet. I’ve not seen him like that before. Ever. However, I do not think that would be the best way to get you and Dwalin to talk.”

Ori nodded. “It’s a matter of whether or not we _will_ talk. I wasn’t the only one angry about this, after all. I was certain, when I left, that I’d not see Dwalin again.”

“And then you did.”

“A few months ago, yes, but before that, not since everyone here left Erebor,” Ori said.

“Not even a letter?” Ori shrugged. A well of anger rose inside him. “Oh, you two are fools! Take it from someone who knows: you need to reconcile, otherwise one day, one of you will be dying and you’ll wish you did so sooner. I know you’re angry and I know Dwalin is angry, but really! If Thorin can forgive me for taking the Arkenstone and I can forgive him for trying to kill me, then I can’t say you and Dwalin are being anything less than ridiculously petty. You still love him and I saw the way he looked at you. This hurts him. He loves you, too.”

Ori stared at his hands. “Sometimes I wonder about that,” he said.

Bilbo huffed and knocked heads with Ori. “I know he does. He might not talk about it much, but Dwalin does love you. He might feel betrayed, since you and Balin decided to do this, but if he still loves Balin, then he still loves you. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Bilbo, it’s not that simple.”

“The hell it is! I don’t have my husband with me, and death wed or not, I did love him. Even without that ceremony or not, I always loved him. Have you any idea why I remained single my whole life?! Who exactly was going to compare to Thorin? My husband is gone and I don’t know if I’m ever going to reunite with him in death! If something were to happen to Dwalin and you were still at this standstill, what would you do? Do you even think you can live with the guilt of never reconciling with him?”

Ori blinked. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do that. Hopefully, you’ll take this widower’s advice,” Bilbo said. He would have lectured Ori a little more, but there was a knock at the door before Frodo stepped in. Bilbo grinned. “Hello, lad.”

“I was wondering when we’d be having dinner.”

“Not for a while,” Ori said, “But I can show you where the kitchen is if you like. Our cooks wouldn’t mind whipping you up something.”

Frodo blushed and grinned. “Okay,” he said. Bilbo clapped Ori’s shoulder.

“Don’t let Dwalin near him.”

“Of course not,” Ori said, smirking at Bilbo before leading Frodo to the kitchens.

Once they were gone, Bilbo went to find Gloin and Nori. Perhaps the three of them could find some way to get those two fools back together without risking Dwalin’s wrath on Frodo.

#

“Bilbo Baggins!” Balin said, embracing him. “It is so good to see you again, laddie.”

“Not much of a ‘lad’ anymore.”

“You’ll always be a ‘lad’ in my book,” Balin said. “You know me. I hear you brought a lad of your own with you.”

“Yes, I adopted a cousin’s son. My relatives were getting on my nerve for not having an heir, and Frodo was becoming quite the handful with his previous guardians, so it was the best option for everyone all around. Speaking of, there he is.”

Balin turned around to see Frodo was still with Ori. Bilbo waved him over and Frodo broke away, a little reluctantly, from Ori’s side. Balin paled.

“Bless me, he looks…”

“I’m afraid he has no relation to Thorin,” Bilbo said. “Although I did have a fright myself seeing him. His coloring’s his mother’s, actually.”

“What about my mother?” Frodo asked, frowning.

“Just telling Balin how much you look like her,” Bilbo said. “Frodo, this is the lord of Moria and our host, Balin son of Fundin, Dwalin’s elder brother.”

Balin took Frodo’s hand in his. “Welcome to Khazad-Dum, lad. Seen much yet?”

“We just arrived, so no,” Frodo said. “Mr. Ori showed me the kitchens, though.”

“Yes, hopefully you didn’t ruin dinner during _that_ tour,” Bilbo said, arching a brow.

“Me? Never!” He looked far too innocent at this and Bilbo narrowed his eyes.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Sure, like what happened in Rivendell was nothing.”

“Hey! Hey! We agreed _never_ to talk about Rivendell!”

“Oh really?”

“Do I want to know?” Balin asked.

“Ask your brother.”

Balin groaned, hiding his face behind his hand. “By Mahal…”

“He did something because of this rapscallion.”

“Of course he did. Was he drunk?”

“Very.”

“I’m not surprised.” Frodo took that has his cue to leave, trying to make his way back to Ori, but getting caught in a headlock by Gimli, who dragged him in a direction opposite of Ori. And Dwalin, who was glaring daggers into Frodo’s back.

“Balin, there’s one thing I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Yes.”

“It’s about Dwalin and Ori…”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REALLY short chapter today

Bilbo found most of his time with Balin and Oin, who was no so deaf he needed an interpreter to help him communicate with others. As for the time spent with Ori, he was rarely alone as Frodo had found a way to keep busy while also be able to spend time with his new crush, to Dwalin’s ire.

“Why Ori?” Bilbo heard him growl to no one in particular at dinner a couple nights after their arrival. “Why not Gimli?”

Why not Gimli indeed…

Frodo hadn’t neglected Gimli, per say, but he did spend less time with him. Gimli didn’t seem to mind as he was often busy himself or spending his time with his uncle.

Bilbo leaned over. “Keep in mind, he’s just a lad. It’ll pass in a few days.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Dwalin growled, lifting his mug.

Bilbo drummed his fingers against the table. “Have you and Ori talked?”

“About what?”

“Anything, really, since he came to Moria?”

Dwalin narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you up to now? You didn’t involve Balin, did you?”

“You’ll see in time and of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

Dwalin glowered at him. “You are an old fool.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. There’s a reason they call me Mad Baggins back home,” Bilbo said. He lifted his mug to his lips and took a deep drink.

Dwalin ignored him and turned back to where Frodo was sitting beside Ori, engaging him in conversation. From where Bilbo stood, Ori seemed quite patient with Frodo. He was thankful for that, but he also knew that Frodo would need a reality check eventually. It was never really considered appropriate for another to fancy someone’s spouse.

“Maybe you should have that talk,” Bilbo said. “Who knows when you’ll have another chance?”

Dwalin turned to him. “Are you, and likely my brother, trying to fix my marriage?”

“Fix it? Heavens no! Any fixing it needs, and that’s a rather bit _if_ it needs it, should only be done between you and Ori. I’m just…figuratively pushing the two of you into neutral ground so you can talk.”

“I see,” Dwalin said. “Well, short of _literally_ pushing us in that room, I do not think you’ll be getting us to talk anytime soon.”

“Why not?”

“Ori made his choice.”

“He did and perhaps it was selfish of him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find a way to move past whatever’s gotten between you. Why not get through it? Balin and I are willing to mediate if need be.” Dwalin pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s simpler than you think,” Bilbo said. “And I know you still love him, so why not?”

“Nosy Hobbit,” Dwalin muttered. “If you can get your lad away from Ori for a bit.”

“Should be easy, he’ll be going to bed right after this whether he wants to or not,” Bilbo said. “Will that do?”

Dwalin nodded and Bilbo grinned behind his mug. Ori might not leave Moria with Dwalin and the others, but at least they can have a little peace.

#

Ori had just shed his coat and was in the middle of taking off his boots when there was a knock at his door. He frowned and grabbed a dagger, hiding it behind his back as he answered the door. Dwalin stood on the front step. For a moment, Ori stood stunned. He pocketed the dagger and opened the door a little wider.

“Dwalin, why are you here?”

“May I come in?” he asked.

Ori stepped out of his way and closed the door behind him.

“I’d still like to know why you’re here,” Ori said, crossing his arms and leading Dwalin into the parlor.

“To talk, if you’re okay with that,” Dwalin said.

“After two years? You _now_ want to talk?” Ori asked.

“I do,” Dwalin said. “The last time we did, we were too angry to do much else other than fight. I don’t want to leave here still angry that you left me for a battle I had fought before and lost.”

“We won.”

“I know. That Moria is ours again is proof of that, but two years ago, I didn’t know that. Two years ago, I really did believe you would die and I was too angry to think about it rationally till you and Balin were already gone. I was relieved when I got the letter that you succeeded and yet I was still angry that you decided to leave. Ori…I love you. You’re my husband and I could have lost you. I won’t ask you to come back with me, and I can’t stay. I have a duty to Erebor and to Dain. But can we at least leave each other this time on better terms than before?”

Ori nodded and motioned for Dwalin to sit. “I know you were angry,” he began. “I was, too. You acted as if I was leaving _you_ and I wasn’t. We’d been in Erebor for years, Dwalin, and I was restless. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted to see the world. I still do. There is so much to see, learn, and do that I just can’t feel right sitting idle and just _documenting_ things I hear rather than actually _go_ and _do_ something. I really had hoped you’d be a part of that. That you’d come with me.”

“Ori, I lived on the road most of my life if not all of it. I already have seen the world and it was cruel. I did not want that for you.” He took Ori’s hands in his. “If it had been anywhere other than here, I would have gone with you in a heartbeat. But I was convinced this would be a suicide mission. A part of me still feels like it will end in blood and that scares me. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. At least now I feel we can have a little peace of mind.”

Ori squeezed Dwalin’s hands. “You’re not going to lose me, Dwalin. I know you have to go back to Erebor, but perhaps you could come back. Maybe retire from the army. Stay here with me. Or is that not what you want?”

“It is exactly what I want. But I’ve still a few years till I can act on it,” Dwalin said. “But sounds like a plan.” Ori grinned as Dwalin kissed his hands. “Mahal’s hammer, I’ve missed you.”

“Same,” Ori said. “I shouldn’t have left as angry as I was, and I should have tried to understand where you were coming from and I didn’t. So I’m sorry, Dwalin.”

“As am I,” Dwalin said, cupping Ori’s cheek and wiping away his tears. “I’m sorry, _âzyungeluh_.”

Ori smiled. “None of this has to do with Frodo, does it? I’ve seen the way you look at him lately, Dwalin. He’s just a bairn with a harmless crush.”

“I know,” Dwalin said. “Which is why I trust you. The kid, on the other hand…”

“I will tell Bilbo if you do anything you shouldn’t.”

Dwalin snorted and Ori pressed his forehead to Dwalin’s. “Do you want to stay tonight?”

“Would you like me to?”

“I would.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

#

“What do you mean I did something? I don’t remember doing anything!” Frodo cried. Bilbo tried hard not to laugh at how panicked Frodo looked. “Did I accidently insult someone?”

“No, Frodo.”

“But I didn’t _do anything_!”

“No, you did. You didn’t _mean_ for it to happen, but it happened nonetheless.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, Bilbo!”

Bilbo smirked. “Never.”

* * *

 ~Khuzdul~

Âzyungeluh=my love of loves


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think as far as chapters go, I should just stop giving myself a set # of pages and just write as much as I can till I get to a good stopping spot...yeah. I just do that even though chapters end up being much shorter...

Gimli listened patiently to Frodo’s rant about Dwalin and Ori as he sharpened his axes.

Once Frodo had finished with a huff, arms crossed and staring at the wall, Gimli set the whetstone down and looked at him. “You do know that they’re married, right?”

Frodo snapped up, staring at him. “They are?”

“Aye.”

“But isn’t Ori closer in age to you?”

“Yes, he is. Better to be with an old Dwarrow than an underage Hobbit anyway. Besides, they’d been together nearly fifty years. They might have their fights, but they are still in love.”

“Damn.”

“You’re young. You’ll find someone to spend your life with eventually,” He said.

Gimli stood and carried his freshly sharpened axe to the training field. Frodo watched him hack a straw dummy in half and walk off, satisfied.

“Come on, let’s go find some food.”

#

_“You know, I think I’m getting to a point where I can actually write it,” Bilbo said._

_Thorin hummed, grabbing Bilbo’s wrist to halt him from petting his hair and kissed his fingers._

_“Are you now?”_

_“We’ll see. I already tell the tale to the children. Abridged, of course. Some of the things that happened are not quite appropriate for fauntlings to hear. But this would be the true retelling, I think. If I can remember it right. I may have to ask the others to remind me what happened in certain parts. Such as what happened when we were separated in Goblin Town.”_

_“Are you sure you want to know?”_

_“We all survived. I’m sure the tale needs proper retelling. Maybe I would have better luck talking to Ori about it.”_

_“Maybe,” Thorin said. He adjusted to laying on his back, a knee propped up and the other leg left long. “I miss you.”_

_“I know,” Bilbo said. “I miss you, too.”_

_Thorin sighed. “You know, I would not be upset if you had found someone to love you in my stead. It was never my intention to widow you and sometimes I wonder why the others had decided we should be death-wed. I wanted to do so much in what time I had left. I wanted to court you, to ask you to marry me properly. This isn’t how I imagined it would happen. I wanted to put beads in your hair, jewelry to drape over your neck and earrings for your ears. I wanted everyone to know how much I adored you. I would not begrudge someone else making you happy.”_

_“Well, I can assure you I would not have taken to jewelry very well,” Bilbo chuckled. “But it’s the thought that counts, I suppose. But you’d have better luck getting your point across with food and flowers. But as to someone else…there was never anyone in the Shire who I fancied. No one who really caught my eye the way you did. You made me feel things I had never thought I’d ever feel. So, I think that even if we weren’t death-wed, I don’t think I would have fallen in love again. At least not in the way I love you.”_

_Thorin sat up and touched Bilbo’s cheek. “You couldn’t have tried?”_

_“It wasn’t a matter of whether I could try or not,” Bilbo said. “When I returned to the Shire, my reputation was in shambles. Even if I were to have found someone else, they likely wouldn’t have wanted me anyway unless we were talking about my money. That’s no foundation for a marriage, Thorin. I wanted you because I loved you. And I know you loved me too. Not that you were obvious about it.”_

_“I thought I was very obvious,” Thorin said. “Moment I saw you, I fancied you. I may have tried to hide it then, but I was taken by you immediately and I was yours once we escaped the Goblins. You might not have known it then. And then there was my descent…”_

_Bilbo took Thorin’s hand and kissed it. “I know you were sick and I was never angry with you about what happened. I know what I did had hurt you, but you weren’t going to do anything to me, even if you were hurt and angry. I did what I had to save the Dwarf I love and I was okay if it cost me my life. In the end, it might not have been healthy, but that’s not your fault nor mine. I love you and I will say it as many times as I must for you to believe that my heart is yours and only yours.”_

_Thorin pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. “I will never understand what I did to deserve you, Bilbo Baggins. Zantulbasnuh. Amrâlimê—”_

Hands closed over his throat and Bilbo woke, tearing at the cold, strong grip, feeling dirty, leathery, bony fingers wrapped around his neck. “Where is it?” a voice he had hoped never to hear again growled. “Where is it, Precious?!”

Bilbo wedged his foot between him and Gollum, kicking him off. Gollum shrieked and Bilbo coughed, running to grab Sting and thanked Yavanna and Aulë that Frodo had decided to spend the night with Gimli and his family. His fingers barely gripped the hilt when Gollum latched onto his back.

“Give it to us! Give it back!”

The doors banged open and Gollum shrieked, letting him go. Bilbo gasped for air, massaging his throat. “After that thing!” Balin shouted before kneeling beside Bilbo and rubbing his back. “Are you okay?” Bilbo nodded, coughing. "Do you know what that was?”

“Remember that creature I met under Goblin Town? That was it,” Bilbo said weakly. “Frodo can’t know about why it attacked.”

“We’ll find it and kill it,” Balin promised. “I can’t in good conscious let something like that run around Moria. What did you do to enrage it enough to want to kill you?”

“About that ring of invisibility I won in the game we played…I didn’t actually win it.”

“You stole it?!”

“Can we save the lecture for later?”

“I don’t think any amount of lecturing will help after all this,” Balin said, helping him up.

Bilbo continued massaging his throat. Balin flagged a guard and sent him to fetch a healer.

“Here on, I think it’d be best if you have a guard with you, Bilbo.”

“No.”

“Something tried to kill you in _my domain_. If you die, that’s on me and Frodo is orphaned again, though he is very welcome to stay here in Moria as long as he likes. No, this isn’t up for discussion. You’re getting a guard whether you like it or not.”

Bilbo sighed and nodded. “I had hoped this wouldn’t happen. I thought he’d have died by now.”

“Whatever it was, I don’t think it dies easily,” Balin said. “We’ll move you and Frodo to different rooms in the morning. And if you could talk to someone about this creature, that would help.”

“Of course. Except, I doubt I could give an apt description. Last time and tonight, I couldn’t see him very well.” Balin patted his shoulder.

“That is fine. Even the smallest detail will help. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He took Bilbo to the physician’s house. As Bilbo waited for the healer to return, he tried to recall the dream he had, but aside from that Thorin was there with him, he didn’t remember anything.

#

Frodo sat at the table, pale and silent, as Bilbo told him about the attack last night. “So…what does that do for us? Do we go home?”

“No, we are staying. Balin and Dwalin are already planning this creature’s capture and, likely, eradication.” Frodo shuddered. “I know that sounds scary, but they will be as humane as possible given the situation. They’re moving us to a different house, one where there will be guards to protect us.”

“I don’t like this.” Bilbo embraced him.

“Neither do I, Lad. But I promise we will get through this and we will go home. Safe. Alive. And I think both of us will be the stronger for it.”

“I don’t know if I can be strong.”

Bilbo smiled. “Frodo Baggins, you already are. Not everyone has the same strength. You’re brand of strength isn’t found in battle. It’s in survival. You’ve gone through what most children aren’t even able to comprehend. And I think, one day, you’re going to do something great. On that day, no matter how old or gone I might be, I will be proud. You, lad, you got a spirit most Hobbits can’t even fathom. But until that day, I look forward to being the uncle you deserve and need.”

Through his monologue, Bilbo watched the color return to Frodo’s cheeks. He kissed his forehead and stood. “Are you hungry? I know I’m famished.”

“You were almost choked to death, Bilbo.”

“And yet I wasn’t. I don’t see why that should stand between me and second breakfast. Do you?”

Frodo thought about it. “Nah.”

“I thought so.”

* * *

 

~Khuzdul~

Zantulbasnuh=my hobbit

Amrâlimê=my love/love of mine


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said last week I would just vary in chapter length? Just get to a good stopping point? 
> 
> Yeah...EXTREMELY short chapter today. Writer's block is a bitch...if anyone's got any ideas of what should happen next, feel free to make suggestions in the comments. I need them for this story...

The search went on for weeks, but there was no sign of Gollum. Bilbo tried to remember where the path he took to escape Gollum was, but none of the caves he found even _remotely_ led to it. In the end, Balin called off the search, but insisted Bilbo keep the guards until he and Frodo return to the Shire.

Whether that meant the guards would go with them or not, Bilbo wasn’t sure. He didn’t put it past Balin to insist on it, though.

Aside from that, there were the pranks.

Bilbo did not fancy waking to water under his feet and nearly slipping in shock. Frodo feigned innocence, but he knew. Boy, did he knew. There also the bucket pail trick, but the classics usually were classic for a reason and a hapless guard was subjected to that one instead of Bilbo.

The cat was not a prank, admittedly, and it almost hurt to tell Frodo _no, we cannot take a cat with us to the Shire. Poor thing likely has family somewhere. Don’t give me a sad puppy look!_

Following that, Frodo had redirected his target from Bilbo to Gimli, launching what perhaps was the most incensed prank war Moria had ever seen.

No beards and foot hair was harmed in the war, thankfully, except for the glue prank, but that was mostly a scary backfire on the lads. Bilbo was willing to give Frodo a pass, but poor Gimli had his ear twisted by his father and uncle. Apparently, they took the glue prank as a bully move though Frodo had been fine both physically and emotionally, and the glue washed out well enough.

And then, at long last, it was time to go home.


	15. Chapter 15

Frodo looked over his shoulder, frowning. He kept closer than what perhaps was necessary, nearly tripping Bilbo a couple times. Bilbo tried not to let it bother him, but the strange behavior worried him. At dinner, he sat beside Frodo after handing him his bowl.

“So, what’s got under your skin, lad?”

Frodo shrugged. “I feel like we’re being followed. That’s all. It’s probably nothing.”

Bilbo hummed. The next day, he kept his ears and eyes sharp, trying to find what it was that bothered Frodo so much yesterday. Finding nothing, he shrugged it off and they continued on their way.

Frodo still kept close, looking over his shoulder, so whatever it was, it still followed.

At the time they stopped for lunch, Bilbo excused himself to the bathroom, Sting strapped to his waist. He waited with his back to the tree, listening. He heard the wind, the gentle rustling of leaves…

Then he smelt a foul stench, like a bog.

“Bilbo!!!” Frodo screamed. Bilbo swore and unsheathed Sting, running back to camp. Gollum had knocked out the guards and had backed Frodo against a tree, held back only by sword point.

“Hey!” Bilbo shouted, pulling the ring out. Gollum turned to him, snarling. “This what you want?” he asked. “Find me first.” He put it on, encased in shadows and wind. Gollum looked around wildly, snarling. Bilbo walked over to Frodo. “You need to climb. I’ll hold him off, lad. Just get into the tree.”

Frodo sheathed his sword and obeyed, scaling the tree as fast as he could. Gollum lunged and Bilbo shoved him back, pressing Sting to his throat.

He felt it.

And again, Bilbo saw the fear in his eyes. He saw what Gollum was once. Mortal. Good. Kind. But he was still twisted and horrid.

By Yavanna, he tried to hurt Frodo!

He sucked in a breath and seized Gollum’s throat, pulling him up. “You come after me and my nephew again, I will run you threw. Next time I will not be merciful.” He let him go and kicked him in the gut. Gollum stood and scurried away.

“Bilbo?”

He took the ring off and pocketed it. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Frodo said. “Are they…”

Bilbo turned to their guards and felt for a pulse.

“They’re fine,” he said. “Just knocked out. Come down and help me wake them.” Frodo climbed down and helped Bilbo drag them to a tree with good shade. While Bilbo woke them, Frodo gathered their waterskins and handed them out.

“Lord Balin will be furious.”

Bilbo scoffed. “I’m fine and so is Frodo. You were taken by surprise, so while I am not happy, I’m not mad either. And if Balin’s still as sharp as I believe he is, he will have a little mercy. It really could have been worse. Gollum’s a tricky bastard, but let’s hope he won’t show up again.”

_Ever._

He turned to Frodo, who had gone to a tree nearby, hiding his face in his knees. Bilbo approached him and knelt “Are you all right, lad?” Frodo looked up and nodded, though his eyes watered. Bilbo sat beside him and embraced him. “You’re okay, lad. It’s okay to be scared.” Frodo whimpered and Bilbo squeezed his shoulders. “You did very well, Frodo.”

“I should’ve killed it,” he whimpered. “I couldn’t. I froze. Everything you and D-Dwalin taught me…I forgot it…I forgot—”

“You had your weapon out,” Bilbo said. “And you had it pointed at him. It was enough for him to keep his distance. He knocked out two Dwarves with _years_ of experience, lad. Being scared is a very reasonable reaction. So don’t be hard on yourself, lad, I was just as scared when I encountered him the first time.” He scratched Frodo’s back as he sobbed. “You did the best you could and we’re all alive. That’s all we can hope for, lad. We’re just a few days away from Rivendell. Okay?”

Frodo nodded and Bilbo kissed his temple. “I’m proud of you, Frodo,” he said. “I’m very proud of you.” Frodo still wept and Bilbo rubbed his back. “When I first received Sting, I told Gandalf that I hadn’t a clue how to use it. Never held a sword in my hand till that day and had not a clue how to use it. The Dwarves mocked Sting’s size, called it a letter opener. But Gandalf told me this and it is has since stuck with me:

“‘True courage is not knowing when to take a life but when to spare one.’ Sometimes there is no other option but to kill, and to be honest, I’d rather you swing your sword around wildly. A trained soldier might know how to overpower you, but Gollum, and creatures like him, _won’t_. They’ll see a crazy hobbit with a sword and stay clear. And that, my lad, is more important in these situations. Understood?”

Frodo nodded. Bilbo squeezed his shoulder. “Good. Now wipe your tears away and let’s pack up what wasn’t damaged in the attack. We’ve still daylight left and it’d be better to put this place behind us. We’ve a few days to Rivendell yet.”

He stood and helped Frodo up, a smile on his face to hide how scared he himself had been.

#

They bade goodbye the guards in Rivendell after a weeklong stay. Bilbo invited them to come to the Shire if they wished, but they declined, deciding to head back to Moria instead. Bilbo promised to keep his doors open for them if they ever came west again.

This time, Frodo kept to himself, usually found in the library when he wasn’t fighting with Legolas to Aragorn’s amusement _and_ expense.

They stayed another week before at last returning to the Shire in time for their next birthday—much to the Sackville-Baggins’ despair.

It was a small, pleasant party where Frodo retold his misadventures to his friends—leaving out how he wept when he had been in a life or death situation. Bilbo still believed he did very well and that there was no shame in it.

Though he did call Frodo out when he embellished it to sound like he managed to fight Gollum off. Kindly, of course, with a teasing smile as Frodo blushed and his new friends laughed.

Rory nudged him.

“He seems happier than the last time we saw him.”

Bilbo shrugged. “I did my best,” he said around his pipe. “He simply needed someone who would try to understand him, like every child needs.”

Rory hummed, lighting his own pipe. “Well, whatever you’re doing, I look forward to seeing the kind of Hobbit he grows up to be.”

Bilbo grinned around his pipe, biting the lip of it. “Same here, Cousin. Same here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm...I suppose it's done? Feels done...I know! It was short! Might have a sequel around Gimli and Frodo (either when Frodo's an older tween or post-LotR) find the tree on the rock.


End file.
